As It Seems
by weasleychick32
Summary: Fred Weasley died in the final battle at Hogwarts. But then why am I, Cora Rivers, matched (via stupid, ridiculous, absurd, [see later rant for more adjectives]) marriage law to be married to him? All is obviously not as it seems...
1. Fred Weasley

_Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling. I know, I know. It's incredibly disappointing._

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**Chapter 1: Fred Weasley**

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It's the most ridiculous house I've ever seen in my life. I stand staring at the house before me and the feeling of foreboding swells in my chest. Totally anti-muggle. I mean the only possible way it could be standing is by magic. If a muggle were to see it they'd either have to request a change in the laws of physics or accept that there _really_ _is_ such thing as magic.

My stomach bubbles in stressed discomfort and I unconsciously cross my arms over it, hugging myself. I hate stress. Honestly hate it with every fiber of my being. Hate. Hate. Hate.

I can't seem to convince my feet to move forward on the path. The whole situation is making my skin crawl. It's nauseating. Pretty much my worst nightmare, come to life. Having my freedom forcibly stripped from me.

You see the whole reason I'm here standing outside this architectural eyesore is because of a law that was passed. A marriage law, of all things. What kind of government gets involved in people's love lives? The Ministry of Magic apparently. I guess the Wizarding population took a pretty hard hit in the war. Oh didn't I mention that? Yeah there was a war.

Long story short some crazy nutso named Voldemort went berserk and gathered a bunch of followers (Death Eaters) and had them kill a bunch of muggles and muggleborns because their blood wasn't up to his standards. But this kid and his school mates killed him a couple months ago and it's all good now. Before Potter (the kid) snuffed him though, he killed a lot of muggleborns. A lot. And since muggleborns make up like half of Wizarding population nowadays we're pretty low on magical blood now. That's why they passed this law.

As if everyone won't be poppin' out kids like they're going out of style now that old Voldy's gone anyway. I swear the government these days… I thought we were finally on an upward swing with Kingsley Shacklebolt as Minister, but apparently that was only temporary. They voted in some shmuck named Denison to take the permanent position. I think she just enjoys playing matchmaker honestly.

Which brings us back to the present situation.

The reason I'm here standing outside "The Burrow", as the sign hanging on the gate proclaims it, is because I've been assigned to _marry_ one of its occupants within the next two months. One Fred Weasley. You know, some random guy that I've never even met before. I now get to bond myself for life to him because some loony in a position of power enjoys saying jump and watching a whole nation clamber to its feet. It's disgusting. Revolting. Vile. Inhuman. Unfair. Humiliating. Infuriating. And just plain ARGABLARGA &#$%#*%#$*# %%*!

But anyway.

I finally gather the courage to push open the gate blocking the pathway to The Burrow. As I trudge down the dirt pathway skirting chickens and eyeing them distrustfully the picture the Ministry sent me of Fred pops unbidden into my mind's eye. He is rather good looking. I'll admit that. The obnoxious Weasley red hair suits his ocean blue eyes and his freckles aren't totally over whelming. He's got a nice facial structure, strong chin and all that, and a fit looking body from what I could see of his shoulders.

Unfortunately his shit eating grin and unrelenting flirtatious winking ruined all of that. Seriously I haven't even met him yet and I want to punch him in the face. Ugh.

I give one final chicken a death glare (I don't like birds okay?) and step up to the door. One deep breath later and I've knocked. I can hear several loud voices from within all shouting over one another and I begin to wonder if they can even hear my knock. The idea that I may just have to let myself in and announce myself terrifies me so I knock again. Well I bang my fist on the wooden door as hard as I can without injuring myself anyway. This at least creates a slight lull in the yelling.

I hear footsteps on the other side of the door approaching me before the yelling resumes and swallows them up. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans and pray to God that I don't look as terrified as I feel. The door finally pops open, releasing the full volume of the yelling voices within and a girl with long red Weasley hair glares out at me.

"What?" she snaps irritably.

"Umm," is all that comes out. This is certainly not the reception I was expecting. I'd always heard good things about the Weasleys.

"What are you doing here?" she questions slowly as though I'm some lower life form. This sparks a bit of anger in me, just enough to get out some intelligible words.

"The marriage law. I'm supposed to meet-,"

"Ugh," she rolls her eyes and stomps into the house beckoning for me to follow.

I make a face at her back and slog into the house behind her. I'm so dreading meeting this Fred Weasley that I can't even be bothered with looking around the place. I focus my laser eyes on the back of Miss Pouty Pants's head instead. I follow her down a hall and then turn left at the foot of the stairs into the kitchen, the source of all the raised voices. I hesitate a smidge in the doorway before I force myself to walk through it.

I couldn't tell you much about what the kitchen looks like because it is jammed full of people, the majority of which have flaming heads. Well not literally, but their hair is red and they all seem very angry about something. I lose track of the unpleasant girl in the mass of new and vaguely familiar faces. I've just connected the dots and recognized Harry Potter when a loud sharp BANG rips through the air.

I jump and flinch away from the noise while nearly everyone else whips out theirs wands and strikes battle poses. My eyes widen at the sight of the wands and I step back into the doorway fingering my own.

"Oh put those away. I was only getting your attention."

I struggle to identify the owner of the woman's voice who spoke and finally spot her sitting at the far end of the table to my left with Grumpy Gills herself standing beside her, arms crossed and glaring a hole through my forehead. Jeez. What did _I_ do?

The woman, whom I can only assume is Mrs. Weasley, gets to her feet. She looks worn and tired and her eyes are puffy like she's been crying, but she still has a commanding aura about her that no one in the room dares to cross. Everyone quickly tucks away their wands and avoids her glare.

"Now if you're all finished behaving like ruffians, we have a guest," she says, smiling warmly at me. I grin weakly back, more than a little uncomfortable with all of the assessing eyes raking me up and down. My hand goes behind my back of its own accord to tug nervously at the end of my ponytail while the other hand clenches into a fist at my side.

"Erm hi. I'm Cora," I tell them all with an awkward half wave.

"Pleased to meet you. Who are you here for dearie?" Mrs. Weasley asks glancing around the room. "It must be Charlie. He's the only one left. I'm sorry dear but he's in Romania still. Won't be back until-,"

"Er no," I interrupt when it becomes clear she won't be running out of steam. "I'm uh, I'm actually here to see, er, meet Fred. Um, Fred Weasley?" My voice rises in pitch slightly making it a question when they all stare uncomprehendingly at me. I tug the end of my ponytail a bit harder at all the tension in the room.

"He's my, umm, match," I mutter and my lips press together in distaste at the word.

"Fred's dead," a quiet but rough voice finally fills the awkward silence. My eyes flick to the speaker and I blink at him for a moment. He's sickly and pale. There's no smirk and he's not winking at me, but there's no mistaking that he's a dead ringer for the photograph of Fred Weasley that I received from the Ministry. I squint at him for a moment and then actually take my letter with match photo attached out of my pocket and squint at the two side by side. Yup. Dead ringer.

Then why is he lying to me? Oh right. Duh Cora. He's trying to get out of marrying me. A pathetic attempt really. Still, I manage a small smile.

"Oh I see," I say knowingly. "A family of jokes! Ha ha. Very funny. No, actually, it's really not. A lot of families lost loved ones to the war so it's pretty low of you to lie about it. And besides, the Ministry would know-"

"It's not a lie!" Fred Weasley snarls at me, slamming his fists onto the table and half standing from his seat to lean towards me looking furious. I take another bewildered step back, but the man standing behind him places a hand on his shoulder and forces him back down.

"It's not a lie," the second Weasley states, much more calmly than his, I'm assuming, brother. The red hair and freckles really are a giveaway, although this Weasley boy wears his in a long ponytail and has a golden stud in one ear.

"Fred died in the battle at Hogwarts," a bushy haired brunette girl (obviously not related) explains looking confused as to why I'm even there. I frown at all of them. They all look fully serious and maybe a little pained and angry to be having this conversation at all. This only adds to my confusion.

"But… But the Ministry would _know_," I repeat. They all stare wordlessly at me so I continue slowly. "As I'm sure you all know, when a wizard dies his name gets wiped off the Book of Registered Wizards. So if his name isn't in the book anymore how would they match me with him?" I ask, holding up the official match designation form with Fred's name and photo. They gape wordlessly for a moment and then all hell breaks loose.

An older balding man, Mr. Weasley, shoves past everyone and runs to the floo closely followed by a stuck up Gryffindor I remember being Head Boy in my 6th year. Petey, or something like that. I'm bad with names. They each grab some powder and shout out "Ministry of Magic" before disappearing with a whoosh of green flames.

Mrs. Weasley has collapsed into her chair and seems to be on the verge of passing out. The boy with the ponytail is trying to calm her which is not helped by formerly angry Weasley girl beside them chanting "Oh my _Godric_. _Oh_ my Godric," over and over again with varying inflections. The bushy haired girl is rapidly saying something to Harry Potter and a tall gangly Weasley boy, but I can't hear what it is over the indecipherable yelling coming from every single corner of the room.

It's a lot like how it was when I first walked in, only now everyone looks rather pale and frightened rather than red and angry. I catch a few key phrases like, "That explains the letter!" and "Then where _is_ he?"

I feel a set of eyes on me and my gaze is drawn to the boy I assumed was Fred Weasley. I now belated remember that there is a set of twins in the Weasley family. Fred Weasley must be half of it and this boy the other half. Furthermore, I remember a lot of gossip about the infamous jokester Weasley Twins in Gryffindor in the year below me at Hogwarts. Ugh. Is it too much to hope that there are _two_ sets of Weasley Twins? For my own sanity I'm going to go with the answer no. No it's not.

The Fred Weasley look alike is staring at me with an unreadable expression. It could be some muted, washed out form of curiosity, but I'm not entirely sure. I look away. I just wish he would blink or start freaking out like the rest of his family. Although seriously, I'm not sure they could get any louder. I thought my family was bad. There's even a vaguely familiar blonde girl jabbering fearfully in what seems to be French, although I can't be certain.

The chaos continues for several minutes and I'm just considering slipping out and going home when the fireplace flares up bright green and Mr. Weasley rushes out looking pale, disheveled, and leaving a trail of ash behind him.

"It's true!" he cries over all the hullabaloo as Petey tumbles out of the fireplace behind him looking shell shocked. "He's alive!"

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**Hi! So I've got some plans for this fic. It's been harassing me for a while but I've been trying to focus on my other ongoing fic before posting it. Unfortunately I've been lacking in inspiration for the other fic so I thought if maybe I get some of my other stuff out there I'll be able to get back into that story.**

**That being said I don't know how frequent updates will be, but I do already have the first 5 chapters written and I'm thinking it'll be about 10 chapters total to get in everything I want. We'll see if I can stick to that. **

**Anyway, enough babbling from me and happy reading!**


	2. Cora Rivers

_Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling. I know, I know. It's incredibly disappointing._

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**Chapter 2: Cora Rivers**

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Currently I'm lying on my bed in my childhood home contemplating my life and how it got so topsy-turvy. I've always lived a fairly mundane existence and I've liked it that way. Well, mundane aside from finding out my siblings and I are magical and having to move to France for a year when the war got too bad for us to stay safely in Britain. Otherwise it's been downright dull.

Oh yeah. You don't know much about me, do you? My name is Cora Rivers. I'm a muggleborn. I have dirty blonde hair and brown eyes just like my mum. Everyone always says we look just alike. I have three siblings Jonathan, Rylie, and Sebastian whom I love dearly even if they do drive me mad half the time.

I have a loving mother and father who were stunned, but excited to find out that their eldest son, Jon is a wizard. Professor McGonagall, Hogwarts's Deputy Headmistress, came to our house herself and broke the news to them. It took a moment for the shock to settle, but once it did they both immediately agreed that sending him to Hogwarts was the most logical decision. Neither of them really cared for the idea of boarding school, but they didn't really have any other choice.

The next 15 months until my 11th birthday were probably the longest of my life. Jon came back from Hogwarts the next summer spouting off all sorts of wondrous stories about moving staircases, trick steps, walls pretending to be doors, and the talking door knocker that tells riddles you have to answer to get into the Ravenclaw tower, his house. He showed us chocolate frog cards and explained that in the Wizarding world pictures _move_.

Three short months later he was gone again to his second year at Hogwarts and I continued waiting anxiously for my turn. Logically I knew I showed the signs of having magical blood in me (I once tripped my sister Rylie without touching her. We didn't always get along as kids), but I still worried a little. Regardless, I received my letter right on time, November 22, mine and Seb's birthday. Not that we're twins. He was actually born four years after me, just on the same date I was. Weird right?

I begged and begged to go to Diagon Alley after I got my letter and get at least my wand even though I wouldn't be getting the supply list until summer. Finally my parents agreed. 10 and a quarter inches mahogany with dragon heartstring and good for charms work. I was warned that it could be a bit stubborn on some things, but once I'd earned its loyalty it would never waver. I'm incredibly attached to that silly stick of wood.

Anyway, so when I finally made it to Hogwarts I was sorted into Hufflepuff. The hat said I had a good bit of every house in me, but that it thought I'd do best with the badgers. Two years later was Rylie's first year and she was sorted (after an eternity) into Hufflepuff with me and two years after that Seb, my younger brother, was sorted into Gryffindor. So all together my siblings and I make up the Hogwarts houses. Except Slytherin of course. I think we all failed on the blood purity qualification.

My years at Hogwarts were for the most part pretty tame. The worst year by far being my 5th year when The Chamber of Secrets was opened. Imagine your O.W.L. year and teachers are dumping loads of homework on you and the whole time all you can focus on is making sure you and your siblings survive the year. Of course it would be my luck that the only year all four of us are at Hogwarts a muggleborn killing monster is set loose in the school.

Poor Seb was only a first year. But honestly I'm glad it was him just starting and not Rylie. He's tough whereas Rylie was a terrified mess without also having first year nerves on top of it all. She was driving me mad that year. I half wished the monster would just petrify me so I wouldn't have to deal with her. But of course my sense of responsibility kept me taking care of her and trying to get her to chill out.

I've always been the one looking out for my siblings. Mostly the younger two, but Jon sometimes too. I've always felt like the oldest, probably because Jon tends to just float around in his own little world.

After I graduated I made the snap decision to go into Magical Law Enforcement rather than try my hand at Experimental Charms like I'd been intending. I guess Cedric Diggory's sudden death spurred that choice. I felt I had to help people somehow. He was in my year. We weren't friends. At all. In fact I thought he was rather annoying, but that doesn't mean he deserved to die. I suppose you can chalk it up to that Hufflepuff loyalty that everyone goes on about.

I ended up as an assistant to an Auror, a bloke named Kingsley Shacklebolt. Yeah the guy who was just the temporary Minister of Magic. I didn't want to actually be fighting (I have siblings who need me after all), but I wanted to help. So I stayed in Kingsley's office and prepared reports using his notes on cases and made sure he was where he was needed when he was needed. Sometimes he even asked for my opinion on cases and things when he got stuck.

I became an invaluable asset when he was assigned as a body guard to the muggle Prime Minister a year after I'd started working for him. Any assignment the Prime Minister gave him he'd pass on to me and I'd whip it up lickety-split. It was imperative that the Prime Minister want to keep him around. It was all good while it lasted.

It was Kingsley who told me to get my family and get out of the country when the Ministry fell. He knew we wouldn't be safe with Voldemort in charge. I owe him for my life and the lives of my family. No doubt all of my siblings and I and possibly my parents would have been rounded up and murdered had we stuck around for the Muggleborn Registration garbage.

That was when we moved to France. My parents weren't too thrilled to have to leave their jobs on such short notice, but they understood to some extent the severity of the situation. I'd been warding their house and keeping them updated on the war since the day I came home after Cedric was murdered.

A long, tedious almost year was spent in France. I tried learning French, but failed miserably. During the nine loooonnnnng months of my exile I received 4 letters from Kingsley and one surprise visit from my best friend Samantha and her parents who were "vacationing in France for the Christmas holiday" as far as anyone else was concerned. The first letter Kingsley sent me came to let me know about the taboo on Voldemort's name. The second was about the Muggleborn Registration and that now they'd be looking for me and all of my siblings since we didn't show up to register. The third came in March to let me know that Harry Potter had been grabbed by snatchers, but got away and was still alive and fighting.

The fourth letter came on May 1st at 2:48am. Kingsley's letters had all been brief, to the point, and written in his short hand that only he and I understood. But this one was the shortest of all and the short hand and code words had been done away with. It simply said, "_The end is happening now at Hogwarts._"

I remember staring at it for a moment and then cursing Kingsley. He knew my loyalty and sense of duty wouldn't let me stay away if I knew it was happening. He knew I'd have to go and help even though I wasn't the best fighter. I remember waking up my family and us all gathering in the living room. I remember telling them that I loved them and that there was a chance that I wouldn't make it back but I would fight like hell to make sure I would. I remember getting a fierce hug from my dad who looked sad yet extremely proud. Next was my mom crying and hugging me goodbye, but restraining herself from asking me to stay. She knew I wouldn't.

I remember Seb, furious that I refused to let him come and Rylie sobbing tears of fear and frustration that I was forcing her to stay behind as well even though she was of age. I wasn't chancing my siblings' lives. I remember Jon hugging me goodbye and wishing me luck and skill. I smiled weakly. I knew he wouldn't try to come. He was too logical and knew that he was no good at physical anything let alone fighting and that him being there would only distract me with worry. I ordered him to stun the other two if they tried to follow and then I walked out to the alley behind the dingy townhouse we were renting and apparated to Hogsmead.

Hogsmead was abandoned at the time. The caterwauling charm wailed unchecked. I remember running up to the castle and the chaos everywhere. The fight already long begun. The rest is a blur. I let instinct take over and keep me alive. I tried to keep to the sidelines as much as possible and avoid one-on-one fights. I'm no good at those.

I know that hours later when Voldemort called a retreat I was tired and covered in dirt, sweat, and blood that I wasn't sure belonged to me or someone else. I remember wanting nothing more than to sleep, but instead sucking it up and helping to move bodies of the fallen and injured into the Great Hall. I remember holding a girl who was about Seb's age in her final moments out on the front lawn of the school and crying over her body when her final breath crossed her lips. Her name was Sally-Anne Perks. I later went to her funeral…

I roll to my feet off my bed and shake the old and yet fresh memories from my mind, knowing if I dwell on them too long I'll be lost in a cloud of darkness for the rest of the day and that can't happen. My parents and I have been invited to dinner at the Weasley's in an hour and I'm prepared for a tense evening. I'm not sure how it's supposed to go over with Fred Weasley being missing, but Mrs. Weasley felt she should get to know me and my parents a bit while the aurors are trying to find out what happened to him and where he is now.

So my _muggle_ parents and I are going over to the obviously _magical_ home of my betrothed who has been assumed dead for the past two months and is currently missing and who was picked for me by a ministry that is forcing three of my parent's four children to marry strangers. If that doesn't scream _AWKWARD_ then I don't know what does.

Regardless, I put on some clean jeans and a nice top, throw my dirty blonde hair into a ponytail and head downstairs to wait for my parents. I plop onto the couch and lay down with a book. My dad comes down the hall a moment later tying a tie around his neck and the moment he sets eyes on me he raises his eyebrows.

"That's what you're wearing?" he asks. I turn my nose up at him.

"Yes," I sniff. He deliberates with himself for a moment and then shrugs.

"They're your future in-laws," he says with a joking grin. I glare at him.

"Whatever," I grumble and try to hide my own grin. At least no matter what happens with the Weasleys I'll always have my own awesome parents. I settle into my book and half an hour later my mother comes down the hall.

"That's what you're wearing?" she asks. I roll my eyes.

"Hey, I put on a nice shirt," I say indignantly, poking at the green fabric. Why is everyone so against my outfit? Jeez. She shakes her head and turns away to get her shoes from the hall closet without another word.

"Are you ready?" she asks once her shoes are on. I sigh heavily.

"As I'll ever be," I reply tonelessly.

"It'll all work out," she says though her brow is crinkled with concern. I press my lips together and don't respond. I think I'd rather be a Tri-Wizard Champion than go through with this unwanted marriage. And I didn't even want to be a champion _before_ I saw what the tasks were.

I set aside my book as my dad emerges from the kitchen with the bottle of wine they bought for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and together we all approach the fireplace. I coach them through how to floo one more time because it's been awhile since they last had to and then I'm whirling through warm flames on my way to The Burrow.

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	3. The Burrow

_Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling. I know, I know. It's incredibly disappointing…_

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_AN: Thanks for the review Guest! And thanks to everyone who has favorited and followed! Here's a new chapter for good behavior. ;-) Just kidding. Really I just can never hang onto chapters once they're finished. It's amazing that I've held off this long. Happy Reading everyone!_

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**Chapter 3: The Burrow**

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I step out of the fireplace and into the warm sitting room of The Burrow.

"Welcome back, Cora was it?" Mr. Weasley has been waiting for me it seems. I can hear clattering noises coming from the kitchen telling me that Mrs. Weasley is finishing up with cooking dinner. Otherwise the house is eerily quiet compared to three days ago when I was here last.

"Yes, Cora Rivers," I introduce myself properly and shake Mr. Weasley's hand.

"Arthur Weasley," he responds happily. "Is it true your parents are-?"

His question is interrupted when the fireplace glows green and spits out my mother. She stumbles, but Mr. Weasley and I catch her before she can hit the floor and then we quickly pull her out of the way as my father blunders out behind her. I sigh. He didn't wait long enough again.

"I will never get used to floo travel," my mom says, getting to her feet looking flustered. "Oh look at us! We're covered in soot!" she cries, brushing at my dad's shirt.

"Don't worry about it mum," I say as I flick my wand causing the ash to be swept from our bodies as though by a stiff wind and gathered into a floating sphere. A slight twist of my wrist and then the ball of soot vanishes. My mom smiles gratefully and rolls her eyes at my showmanship at the same time.

"Muggles!" Arthur Weasley seems unable to contain himself any longer and eagerly shakes hands with each of my parents. "I'm Arthur Weasley. So pleased to meet you both. Simply delighted! Now, can you tell me-?"

"ARTHUR!" Mrs. Weasley has appeared in the doorway to the room looking as formidable as a hurricane to a glass house. "You leave those poor folks alone! I won't have you interrogating them during my dinner!" Arthur appears abashed and grins weakly at his wife.

"Sorry dear."

My mum appears amused at the exchange while my dad stares curiously around the room, no doubt looking for evidence of magic. I have a feeling that he and Mr. Weasley will prove to be quite the pair. I can't wait. Please note the sarcasm.

"I'm Anita Rivers and this is my husband Steve. Pleasure to meet you," mum introduces herself and my dad to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"Molly Weasley, please call me Molly. That goes for you as well dear," she says with a warm smile towards me. I smile back and nod, but can't help but think that this is all to compensate for how I saw the family acting last time I was here. Dad gives the Weasleys the bottle of wine we brought and Mr. Weasley goes gaga over it while Mrs. Weasley looks at it a bit dubiously. Mrs. Weasley then leads us into the kitchen where she puts away the wine and then continues on straight out the back door and into the garden. Then I realize why the house is so quiet. Everyone is out here.

"We were a bit tight on space in the kitchen so we set up out here. I hope you don't mind," Mrs. Weasley says smiling self-consciously. Dad beams at her.

"Of course not! How could we complain about dinner in the fresh air and sunshine?" he says. Mum nods in agreement while I watch the chaos before me. I count the people crowding the table and come away with five red heads and five non-Weasleys. Adding in my family and the two elder Weasley's that brings the total to 15. Yeah it was a good move to tell my parents that we should wait to bring my siblings just yet.

In what seems to be the typical Weasley fashion everyone is talking over everyone else and laughing and joking. This doesn't bother me. Remember I have a family of six. I'm no stranger to noise. It's how close knit they all seem. I can't see myself genuinely included in this group. I don't see a spot for me here.

"Settle down you lot," Mrs. Weasley commandeers her troops. "_Now_." The tall gangly Weasley drops the carrot he was trying to shove up his sister's nose and then his ears flush red when he sees us standing here.

"Introductions," Mrs. Weasley says, clapping her hands together briskly. "Everyone this is Mr. and Mrs. Rivers and their daughter Cora, Fred's match. And this is Bill, Fleur, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Harry, Percy, Penelope, George, and Angelina."

I try to commit the names to memory, but I know the attempt is futile. I have no memory for names. We sit down across from Fleur (who now I remember was the Beauxbatons Champion in the Triwizard Tournament) and the ponytailed Weasley who I think was Bill? Soon he and my dad are discussing the differences between muggle and wizard currencies and my mom has engaged Fleur in a conversation about the various wonderful things in France. My mum fell in love with the culture during our stay there.

Dinner goes well enough at first. The girl beside me, Angelina Johnson (she reintroduced herself thank goodness), tries to engage me in a conversation about Quidditch, but that only lasts so long. Not that I don't like Quidditch, I just don't _follow_ Quidditch if you get what I mean. I don't know players and statistics and moves and whatever else.

Hermione talks to me for a bit about muggle books that we each enjoy, but it turns out that she's more into classics while I'm into modern fiction and murder mysteries. Mostly I just eat my food (which is _delicious_) and listen to the conversations going on around me. The only person besides me who doesn't seem to have much to say is George, the one I accused of being Fred Weasley. I made a special effort to remember his name since he's the identical twin of my match. I figure he's kind of important to remember. I can't say I blame him though for not talking much. Losing your twin must be pretty devastating. I even can't imagine losing one of my siblings.

Instead of engaging in small talk I listen and gather information about the people around me. I know that sounds kinda creepy, but it makes me more comfortable to know things about the people I'm with and then I'm more likely to open up. It doesn't have to be anything profound. Like for instance, Ron hates Brussels sprouts and Angelina thinks the Wimbourne Wasps suck and Percy is allergic to dust.

And all of them have been matched with people they not only know and like, but people that they were already entertaining a thought of at least dating before the law got passed. Ron and Hermione. Harry and Ginny. Percy and Penelope. Only George and Angelina am I unsure about, but they certainly seem to know each other already at least.

Disaster strikes just before dessert. Okay, maybe I'm being dramatic. But the mood certainly gets taken down a few notches and then blown to smithereens.

"That was delicious Mrs. Weasley," I say earnestly after I've scraped the last of my smashed potatoes off my plate and swallowed them down.

"Why thank you dear." She beams looking pleased. "But I've told you, call me Molly. Although soon you'll have to call me mum you know."

She says it playfully, but that doesn't stop the lead rock that suddenly drops in my gut and the nausea spreading from it. I try to play it off as nothing and smile, but my lips are pressed together so tightly that I'm sure it doesn't come off right. Mrs. Weasley's face falls as she realizes that she misspoke and an uncomfortable silence falls over the table as everyone stops their conversations to watch us.

"Oh I'm so sorry-," Mrs. Weasley starts, but I cut her off with a firm shake of my head.

"No." I clear my throat when my voice comes out shaky. "No it's fine. You're fine. You didn't- I'm alright. I'm fine," I reassure her. I hang my head so my face is down towards my plate, sure it will give my true colors away. I pick up my fork and then set it back down. I wish I had more food on my plate to distract me from the uncomfortable tension. Not that I'd be able to swallow it past the giant lump in my throat.

"How about dessert!" Mrs. Weasley jumps to her feet, clearly trying to return the previous light atmosphere. It works somewhat. Everyone strikes up conversations, but I can feel their eyes on me. I notice my hands are shaking and drop them to my lap to hide them. Mrs. Weasley comes around with some chocolate cake and drops a generous slice onto my plate.

Everyone digs into their dessert, but I can't do it. The lump in my throat has grown bigger and my breathing is uneven. Pressure is building behind my eyes. I can't. I can't do this. Suddenly my entire situation is completely overwhelming me. I shove my chair away from the table and once again everyone stops what they're doing to stare at me.

Mrs. Weasley opens her mouth but I put up a shaky hand.

"I just need a moment," I mumble in a frail kind of voice that I've never used before.

"Cora," Mum starts. I should tell you now. I hardly ever cry and _never_ in public. There are a lot of things I can handle without losing my calm, but as it turns out this is not one of them.

"God, I can't do this mum!" I yell. My voice cracks and a couple traitorous tears escape. I swipe at them furiously; hating them for their very presence and hating myself for being so weak and letting them escape in front of people. Mum starts to get up, but dad puts a hand on her shoulder and shakes his head.

"I can't just sit here and eat cake when my whole life has been stolen and decided for me! Where's my choice, dammit?! What happened to my _freedom_? This changes everything in my life and I can't just go with the flow this time! I just _can't_," I cry and then turn on my heel and storm away. I smear away more tears that have leaked unbidden down my cheeks and keep walking. I don't know where I'm going, just away and hopefully somewhere private so I can get my crap together.

"Just give her some time to herself. She'll be alright," I hear my dad say behind me.

I keep walking, heading for the road. When I reach it I turn left and just keep walking and wiping my face, trying to muffle the sobs ripping at my throat.

It's not fair. It's just not fair. As much as I detest those words I think they fully apply to this situation. Sometimes life just sucks. That's what I told my siblings that year The Chamber of Secrets opened and that's what I told them when we were forced to drop our lives and move to France and then again when I left them behind to fight in the battle at Hogwarts.

Sometimes life just sucks. Those words would definitely cover all of this, but at least all those other times it was temporary. I have to live with this for the rest of my life! There is no just sucking it up until it's over.

Honestly, I don't even know how to deal with this. I stop walking when my legs start to ache and I can no longer see The Burrow. I plop down in the grass beside an old weeping willow off to the side of the road and just breathe for a moment. I run my hand through the stringy tendrils hanging down from the tree and focus on how the green leaves feel whispering across my fingers and try not to think.

On a whim I tug three strands down and start braiding them together. I make two bracelets from the braided strand and put one on each wrist. The left one is pretty loose, but I think it'll stay on. I stand up and dust off my back side before leaving the tree's enclosure. I glance around and see nothing except endless road, distant bushes, and my tree. The sun has set and there's a chill to the air, but it doesn't bother me. The sound of cicadas and faraway bullfrogs soothes me like a lullaby.

I'm calm now, but not ready to go back. I'm not ready for the stares and the questions and the embarrassment of completely losing it in front of a bunch of strangers.

"UGH," I sigh heavily and try not to focus on how mortified I feel and how uncomfortable it is. Instead I gather some decent sized pieces of gravel from the road and start throwing them as close to the bushes across the road and then back a ways as I can. It's hard to see in the dark, but the rocks are white and I make it work. It becomes a bit of a game and after a while I'm tired and sweaty, but feeling better.

"Yes!" I laugh as I hit my target and fist-pump my victory.

"Nice shot."

I jump about a mile in the air, dropping the rocks I'd been holding and I whirl around to face the speaker. It's George Weasley.

.


	4. George Weasley

_Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling. I know, I know. It's incredibly disappointing._

.

_** Thanks for everyone out there reading this! Although I suppose I wouldn't mind if you were all just a little less voiceless… Just a suggestion. Happy Reading!**_

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**Chapter 4: George Weasley**

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"How long have you been there?" is the first thing that pops out of my mouth. He looks faintly amused just standing in the middle of the road with his hands in his pockets. He shrugs in response to my question and chooses not to answer.

"Were you planning on coming back?" he asks gazing determinedly at my face. I sigh deeply and look away.

"Yeah," I tell him reluctantly.

"You've got mum in a right tizzy," he says nonchalantly. I grimace and finger one of my leaf bracelets.

"I'm sorry," I tell him. "That was really out of character for me. Really. I swear I'm not usually such a… such a…"

"Drama queen?" he supplies helpfully. I snort and grin a bit.

"I was thinking cry baby, but that too." He smiles and it's the first time I've seen him do it. It brightens up his whole face. He's got a nice smile I decide. It's there and then it's gone again much too quickly.

"Mum thinks you hate us," he says conversationally. I purse my lips and crinkle my nose.

"I don't hate anyone," I tell him. "It's got nothing to do with you guys at all really. It's just that…"

"They took away your choice," he fills in for me, obviously having paid attention to my outburst earlier.

"Exactly!" I exclaim, all of the earlier frustration returning. "This is supposed to be one of the two big decisions in my life. The person I _bond_ myself to for the _rest of my life_ should be _my_ choice! The only people involved should be me and the other person. Not some control happy bimbo in the Ministry who gets her jollies by screwing up other peoples' lives."

I was so consumed in my rant and the anger and frustration pumping through my veins that it takes me a moment to notice George is snickering. I glare at him.

"Control happy bimbo," he says, grinning and snickering still. My lips quirk slightly into an almost smile and I shrug.

"Well it's accurate," I defend.

"That's why it's so funny," George tells me.

We fall into silence for a few moments and then George steps off the road and lies down in the ditch wordlessly patting the spot of grass beside him for me to join him. I hesitate and he just folds his arms behind him head and gazes up at the sky as he waits for me. I sigh silently and shuffle my way down beside him (a healthy foot and a half away, don't worry) and mimic his pose. I lift my eyes up to the sky and barely restrain a gasp.

"Wow," I say, awestruck. You definitely don't see these kinds of stars in town. The sky is full to the bursting with sparkling little white lights. Billions and trillions of them. A million tiny suns in the sky…

"Angelina is Fred's ex-girlfriend," George suddenly says, out of the blue. I turn to him in surprise. He continues staring up at the stars with a slight frown tugging down his lips and his brow furrowed.

"Oh," I say, unsure of what else there is to say. "Well that super sucks."

George snorts and finally turns to me and gives me a wry grin.

"Doesn't it?" His grin turns bitter and he turns his face back to the sky. His lanky hair moves away from his face and my eyes widen at the dark hole in the side of his head where his ear should be. I open my mouth and then quickly shut it again and turn away. _You can't just ask someone why they're missing an ear Cora_, I berate myself. It's hard to quench my curiosity though. We're silent for a few minutes before he speaks again.

"What's the second big choice?" he asks.

"What?" I'm obviously not following his train of thought. Probably because I'm distracted thinking about how he could have possibly lost his _ear_.

"When you were ranting earlier you said that there are two big choices in life. What's the other one?"

"Oh," I say. "Career choice. That one didn't go like it was supposed to either, but I guess in the end I like how it turned out anyway," I say with a small smile. I actually do miss my job. And even Kingsley... I turn towards George to find that he's already watching me, searching my face for something.

"Well maybe we'll like how all this turns out in the end too," he says. I smile sadly in return.

"Hopefully," I say without really any hope.

Without another word he gets to his feet and offers me a hand up. I'm feeling charitable so I accept it. I brush myself off, hoping I won't look too much like a mess when we get back to The Burrow.

"Milady," George says, offering me the crook of his arm. I snort and smirk at the offer.

"Race you there," I challenge instead and then twist on my heel and disapparate with a pop. I reappear an instant later just outside the front gate to The Burrow. I don't waste a moment and vault over the gate. The second my feet hit the dirt I hear a crack behind me. I don't bother turning to look and sprint for the house, kicking up dirt in my wake.

Unfortunately I've always been a slow runner. Ten feet from the door a hand snags my arm and spins me around. I stumble trying to keep my footing while George jets past me and slams a hand against the door.

"Ha! I win!" he crows with a huge grin. I grin myself just seeing it. It's much more natural than the serious expression he's worn the majority of the time that I've seen him.

"You even had a head start and I won!" he taunts.

"You've got longer legs than me!" I complain. It's my go-to excuse in the case of leg races or anywhere it applies really. George laughs loudly.

"Hardly!"

I look him over and have to concede the point. He's only got maybe an inch or two on me. Time for a new tactic.

"Well then you cheated! Interference when you grabbed my arm!" I insist stubbornly, crossing my arms over my chest and tipping my nose up at him. He laughs again.

"Bulloc-!"

"George!"

George nearly falls on his arse when Mrs. Weasley suddenly whips open the door he's been leaning on to scold him for his language. I manage to muffle my snicker, but he still glares at me although still grinning slightly. Mrs. Weasley ushers the two of us into the house and towards the sound of voices coming from the sitting room.

As I follow behind her down the hallway my feelings of embarrassment and dread return and the silly mood I'd fallen into with George fades away.

At least it does until George gives me a wet willy.

Acting on instinct I curse loudly and slap his hand away and then kick him in the shin.

"OUCH! Bloody hell woman! There's no need for violence!" George yells hopping on one foot and clutching his injured leg.

"I beg to differ!" I shout while using the shoulder of my shirt to try and get his saliva out of my ear. Yuck. "And I'm a violent person. You'd better get used to it. You're just as stuck with me as I am with you."

"Ugh. You're right. Poor Fred," George groans as he lifts his pant leg to examine the afflicted area while leaning against the hallway wall. He gives the spot an experimental poke and winces. "Poor _me_. That's gonna bruise."

I ignore his final remark.

"Yeah poor Fred," I snort. "Welcome home Freddie!" I say, putting on a fake high pitched voice. "We're so glad you're not dead! Oh, by the way, we betrothed you to some girl you've never met before while you were gone and your wedding is set for some time within the next month. _Surprise_!"

George laughs loudly.

"Yeah and the brilliant part is that he's going to think I'm just trying to prank him!" he manages to get out while still laughing.

I grin a bit as he calms down and then we finally enter the sitting room. I hesitate in the doorway.

If George was trying to distract me from feeling embarrassed or nervous he'd succeeded, but now I'm the center of attention and everyone is just _staring_ at me and the feelings are back. Seriously, they're all just staring at me like I'm an alien or something. But I do figure I owe them all an apology.

"Umm, sorry guys," I start lamely, awkwardly shuffling my feet in place and picking at my bracelet again. Now that I'm seeing them (the bracelets) in the light I realize how truly ugly they are. "That was out of line earlier and I don't have anything against any of you it's just that the situation kind of overwhelmed me a bit."

"Oh it's quite alright dear," Mrs. Weasley says from where she's standing by the fireplace mantle looking teary. "Nothing to forgive. We understand of course." She turns slightly and discretely wipes at her eyes. In an instant everyone joins in expressing the uneededness of their forgiveness. I just smile vaguely and walk over to where my parents are seated. They rise to stand with me, clearly ready to leave.

I'm still staring around the room though and trying to figure out what is going on. Mrs. Weasley is definitely battling tears and I know they aren't because I delivered such a beautiful, heartfelt apology. And while everyone has been very nice since meeting me, they haven't exactly been this warm and accepting. They were more curious and withholding judgment.

I catch sight of George on the other side of the room and he looks… irritated. That's strange. He was fine a second ago. And beside him Angelina looks annoyed as well. Everyone else though looks positively cheerful. So if George and Angelina are both upset, but the family is happy then whatever caused the shift must have something to do with George. I haven't the foggiest what though. This family just doesn't make sense.

"I'm taking Angelina home," George grumbles, meanwhile Angelina is standing behind him looking anywhere but at me. The family says their goodbyes and Mrs. Weasley pulls him into a tearful, rib cracking hug that he does his best to get out of.

"Geroff mum! I'll see you this weekend."

Mrs. Weasley reluctantly lets him go and just as he and Angelina are about to exit the room George pauses.

"See you Cora," he says before turning again and leaving.

"See you," I reply dully, still confused on what just happened. We wait in an awkwardish kind of quiet until the front door shuts behind them on their way out. Then Mrs. Weasley throws herself at me and I'm subjected to the same tearful and bone breaking hug that she inflicted upon her son. I pat her awkwardly even as I run out of air. Finally she lets go and I greedily gulp down the oxygen I'd been deprived of.

"What was all that?" I wheeze.

"Oh we're just so grateful dear. You'll be a wonderful addition to the family," Mrs. Weasley gushes. …_What?_

"George hasn't laughed like that since Fred…" Percy trails off looking distraught.

"I wasn't trying to make him laugh," I try to explain. "It just happened." They don't appear to be listening. Bill thumps me on the back and grins at me.

"You'll be good for Fred," he says. They definitely aren't listening.

"What?" I ask.

"You'll have to keep the two of them from blowing themselves up in the shop of course, but I think you're up for the task," Ginny tells me with a smirk.

"Blowing up-? Shop? _What_?" My sputtered protests go ignored once again.

"And don't let them pressure you into being a test subject for their pranks," Hermione warns.

"Just watch out for their pranks in general," Ron adds seriously.

"They can be pretty sneaky," Harry says.

Then there is a whirl of farewells and me and my parents are ushered into the fireplace and back home. I tumble out of the fireplace and collapse onto the couch immediately, staring in stunned disbelief at the ceiling.

I think I've just been inducted into the Weasley family.

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	5. Finding Fred Weasley

_Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling. I know, I know. It's incredibly disappointing._

.

**Chapter 5: Finding Fred Weasley**

.

Please. Just do me a favor and kill me now. A nice Avada Kedavra should do it. Quick and painless. Oh yes. I'm quite sure. Don't hesitate. _Anything_ would be better than this.

"_Cora_, _are you even listening to me_?"

I straighten up in my seat at the kitchen table and try to discretely wipe the drool from my chin and paste an innocent expression on my face.

"Course I am sister dearest! Wouldn't miss a single detail," I mutter the last part sarcastically under my breath. Of course Rylie still hears and glares at me over her stack of muggle and magical wedding magazines.

"Cora can you just be serious for once! This is important!" Rylie's cheeks are pink and her eyes are just a slight bit too shiny. I drop the facade immediately. The last thing I need is to try and console a weepy overemotional Rylie. She's already been on edge since the marriage law passed, not that I can blame her. Really the only difference between me and Rylie is that she's _happy_ about her match.

"Alright. I'm sorry," I tell her earnestly if somewhat reluctantly. "What were you saying about napkin designs?"

Rylie's face flushes again only this time she's angry.

"Cora! That was 20 minutes ago! Now I have to go back through silverware, centerpieces, boutonnières, _and_ favors!"

I groan and slump down in my seat. Me and my big mouth. Rylie tosses aside several magazines that she's circled items for her wedding in and fishes out several more from the bottom of the pile. I groan again and she sends me a death glare.

Just then I catch a glint of silver through the window over the sink out of the corner of my eye. That's odd. Our kitchen faces the backyard so it's not like it's just a car that drove by. I turn to the window just as a silvery fox leaps through the glass like a ghost and lands soundlessly in the center of the kitchen.

I jump horribly at the surprise of it and I'm guessing Rylie does too because she knocks half of her magazines to the floor.

"What is that?!" she shrieks.

"It's a Patronus!" I say, squinting at it. "But I don't know what it's-,"

Then the fox's mouth opens and George's voice comes pouring out of it, apparently incredibly excited. Maybe a bit _too_ excited.

"WE'VE FOUND FRED! WE'RE GOING TO GET HIM! COME TO THE BURROW! NOW!"

I gape at the place where the fox stood even after it's dissolved into a fine mist.

"How did he do that?" I exclaim, gesturing to the long gone fox. Rylie is still rubbing her ears and looking a mixture of irritated and bewildered.

"I don't know, but that sounded important. You should probably go," she says frowning down at her magazines.

"But how did he _do_ that?" I persist. "Have you ever heard of a way to make your Patronus talk? I haven't!"

"I don't _know_ Cora. How about you go ask _him_," Rylie snaps. This time I cotton on to her obvious disappointment as she gloomily stacks her magazines back up. I frown. I know I was just thinking I'd rather die than sit through anymore of her wedding talk, but I can't just leave her like this. I sigh internally at what I'm about to do.

"You can come with," I offer nonchalantly. Rylie's head pops up at me, her eyes wide.

"Really?" she asks hopefully. I shrug.

"Sure why not? I'll probably just be sitting around bored waiting for them to get back with Freddy-boy anyhow," I explain.

"Are you sure you want me there?" she asks. "They're your future in-laws after all."

The phrase turns my stomach, but I grin through it.

"Course I'm sure. Now get your stuff and I'll leave a note for mum."

Five minutes later there's a sticky note on the fridge explaining our sudden absence, Rylie has a large tote jam packed with magazines on her shoulder, and we're strolling up the front walk to The Burrow (thankfully the chickens are put away this time). It's been about a week since I was here last, although not for Mrs. Weasley's lack of trying. The excuse that I've been helping my siblings prepare for their respective weddings has been dropped quite a lot.

"Wow. That's er- Some house," Rylie says eyeing the house distrustfully.

"It's insane right?" I say grinning up at the anomaly. It's kinda starting to grow on me. But don't tell anyone.

"Insane is one word for it," Rylie mutters, swiping a short stray brunette curl back behind her ear. She got dad's brown hair and green eyes. Lucky girl. "You're sure it's not going to collapse on us?"

"Well it hasn't yet, has it?" I say cheerfully, bumping her with my shoulder. Why am I so cheerful you ask? Well for one, I've got my sister with me as a buffer between me and The Weasleys and most importantly Fred once he's here, and two, there's no way she'll be able to get through those magazines in the typical Weasley chaos.

"That's not exactly reassuring Cor," Rylie says with an annoyed scowl in my direction. I roll my eyes as we step up to the door.

"Have a little faith in magic _Ry_," I tell her as I knock. I don't even have a moment to brace myself before the door is whipped open and I'm forcibly dragged into the house leaving Rylie bewildered on the doorstep with the door slammed shut in her face.

"Cora you're here! Finally! What took you so long!? The aurors found Fred! We're going to go get him! He's in some muggle place so I figured you could come along and help us get him out and you'll have to meet him sometime anyway so I figured why not-,"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! I can't just _go get him_!" I finally manage to wrench my arm out of George's grasp. He looks like a kicked puppy. I stalk back to the door, fling it open, grab a stunned Rylie, tug her in behind me, and then slam the door shut again. George follows my every move.

"What do you mean?" he asks looking wounded. "And who's this?"

"My sister Rylie. I brought her to keep me company while _you_ _guys_ go get Fred," I explain crossly. I stop in the entryway waiting for him to lead the way into the rest of the house, but he doesn't.

"Why don't you want to come?" George asks without so much as greeting poor Rylie. Talk about a one track mind. I throw my hands up in exasperation.

"Why _would_ I want to come?! I don't even know the guy!" I exclaim.

"You know me! It's like the same thing," George says dismissively.

"George I've only known you for like an hour interaction-wise! I'd hardly call that knowing a person," I refute.

George ignores me and grabs my arm to tug me further into the house. I grab onto Rylie's so she doesn't get left behind again. We end up in the sitting room which is empty except for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley who are speaking to each other in hushed tones with anxious, but excited expressions. Everyone else must be either at work or out. It _is_ a weekday after all. As soon as we enter the room they stop speaking midsentence and turn to us.

"Cora! Oh good you're here. Are you ready to leave?" Mr. Weasley asks.

"No," I reply, but Mrs. Weasley catches sight of Rylie coming in behind me and interrupts.

"Oh who's this?" she asks nicely. I step further into the room and aside so they can see each other better and make my introductions.

"Mrs. Weasley this is my sister Rylie. Rylie this is Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Oh and George. Fred's twin."

"Nice to meet you," Rylie tells them. Then she turns to me. "You didn't tell me that Fred has a twin."

George's jaw drops and he feigns a hurt hand over his chest.

"You didn't tell her about me?" he asks. "And here I thought we were just the best of friends." He sniffles.

"Oh shut it you," I tell him. The whole situation has made me crabby.

"Don't take it personally," Rylie reassures him with a concealed smirk towards me. "Cora doesn't like talking about anything to do with the marriage law. It's a wonder I even know that her fiancé has been missing."

"Enough!" I raise my voice to be heard. "Subject change: Why on earth would you people think I'd want to go with you to rescue Fred?"

There's silence for a moment as everyone adjusts to my sudden forwardness. Hey I can be assertive when I need to be.

"Well you need to meet him sometime," Mrs. Weasley says slowly. With great self-restraint I keep myself from rolling my eyes.

"Yes, but now hardly seems to be the best time," I say. The Weasleys all stare at me blankly and I sigh. I really shouldn't have to explain this. "Fred has been missing and assumed dead for _two months_," I explain slowly. "If he was gone for that long something must have happened to him that wouldn't let him come back. So who knows what kind of state he's in."

To my surprise Mrs. Weasley smiles.

"Oh is that all dear?" she asks with a slight chuckle. _What?_ "We know exactly why he couldn't come back and what state he's in. The aurors found him in a muggle mental institution. They're not quite sure how the muggles found him, but they did and they say he was talking crazy about magic and wizards and wands and a battle. They obviously thought he was delirious and then once he attacked them trying to get away to find George they called the… umm what are they called again dear?"

"Please-men," Mr. Weasley answers proudly.

"Policemen," I correct.

"Yes," Mrs. Weasley agrees. "They called the policemen who picked him up and then had him institutionalized when they couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. And of course we have his wand, so he's been stuck there ever since."

I gap at her for a minute. This certainly doesn't explain everything (like how a dead body just came back to life, got up, and made its way to a muggle populated area without anyone noticing), but in a way it makes sense… I guess.

"Okay so why do _we_ have to go get him? Why couldn't the aurors just pick him up and bring him back once they'd found him," I ask even though I'm pretty sure I already know the answer. If you remember, I did work with the aurors for two years. Mrs. Weasley huffs at this and purses her lips.

"I asked the same question. _Apparently_ the aurors are only allowed to modify that many muggles' memories, and not to mention the sheer amount of documentation they have on Fred, in _emergencies_. Since the muggles told them all they had to do to get him out was have family come identify themselves and sign a release form they left it for us to do ourselves," she explains crossly.

Unfortunately this confirms my suspicions. I scowl.

"Okay, but why do you need _me_?" I ask. Mr. Weasley smiles self-consciously.

"Do we look like the kind of people who could just walk into a muggle establishment and not look suspicious? We could get locked up just like Fred if we're not careful. We need you to help us play the part. You would know what you're doing," he says.

Drat. It's like these people already know my weakness. I can't just not help people who need me.

"I've never busted anyone out of a psych ward or anything before," I mumble.

"Well there's a first time for everything!" George says brightly, clapping me on the shoulder. I pull a face. I know I've been cracked, but I put up one last feeble defense.

"But I told Rylie that I'd look through her wedding magazines with her."

Mrs. Weasley lights up and turns to Rylie with newfound enthusiasm.

"Wedding magazines?" Mrs. Weasley asks. Rylie nods eagerly and pulls a couple out of the bulging bag still weighing down her shoulder.

"I've already gone through them and marked the things I liked and I was trying to bounce ideas off Cora earlier, but I was boring her to tears," Rylie enlightens her, skillfully evading the death glare I'm aiming at her.

"Oh I would love to see your ideas!" Mrs. Weasley beams. "The two of us girls can stay and talk wedding details while you lot go bring my baby home."

Rylie nods animatedly, no doubt glad to have someone who will not only listen, but be actively involved.

"Cora how does that sound?" Mrs. Weasley asks and I swear I detect a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. I narrow my eyes.

"Fine." I sigh. I know when I'm beaten.

.


	6. My Fiance

_Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling. I know, I know. It's incredibly disappointing._

.

**Chapter 6: My… Fiancé**

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Me, George, and Mr. Weasley are walking down a muggle street following directions Mr. Weasley wrote down after speaking with an auror about the best way to get to Fred. It's been a quiet walk with George practically bouncing down the pavement and me constantly having to drag Mr. Weasley away from "fascinating muggle contraptions" such as parking meters, neon signs, and street lamps. I'm still mad about getting dragged into this, but something has been bugging me and I just can't wait any longer to hear the answer.

"George? How did you do that talking Patronus thing?" I ask curiously.

"What? Oh that," he says like it's nothing. "That was just how we communicated in the Order."

"George!" Mr. Weasley chastises his son.

"You were in the Order of the Phoenix?" I ask bewildered. George grins at me.

"Course I was! We all were," he confesses.

"George," Mr. Weasley says again, this time rubbing his forehead. We both continue to ignore him.

"Is that how you lost your ear?" I ask before I can even think to stop myself. George laughs.

"Oh you noticed did you? Yes that's how I lost my ear," he tells me with a broad grin as though it pleases him immensely to have people ask him about it. I'm silent for a second as I digest this. Then I'm back to wanting my questions answered.

"So how do you do it? The Patronus thing. I've never even heard of it before."

"Well that's because Dumbledore figured out how to do it and only taught Order members so that we would have a safe, fast way to communicate between members," George explains. I nod. It makes sense and seems like something only Dumbledore would manage.

"Will you teach me sometime?" I ask, glancing at Mr. Weasley out of the corner of my eye to see if he will try to stop us. I needn't have worried. Mr. Weasley now seems to be pretending he can't hear our conversation. Ignorance is bliss and all that.

"Sure," George agrees easily. We turn a corner and Mr. Weasley stops.

"We're here," he announces.

It's a dilapidated stone building with a large set of revolving doors in the front and a set of regular doors to the side marked _Handicapped Only_. The gray paint coating the stones began peeling long ago and it seems no one ever thought to redo it. It looks rather depressing actually. And the sign looming above the doors just adds to the feel of it all.

_Haggarton's Home for the Mentally Impaired_.

A shiver runs down my spine as I imagine what horrors could be within. I've obviously watched too many scary movies. I blame Sam, my best friend; she's the one who loves those genres. I'm more of a crime solving kind of girl. At least it's not a full out insane asylum.

"So these are all we need?" George asks dubiously while eyeing the plastic card in his hand displaying his photo and general information.

"Yes," I confirm shaking the distracting thoughts from my head and trying to focus. "They'll ask you for your ID and you give them that. If they ask for anything else we'll just have to say we didn't know to bring it and then come back later with it. Hopefully they won't though." _Because I'd really just like to get this over with,_ I add silently.

George and Mr. Weasley nod in understanding and then Mr. Weasley gestures for me to lead the way. This is probably because they've never been through a revolving door before. I imagine it looks quite insane to people who haven't grown up using them.

I give them a quick tutorial on the door (one person per opening. Yes you do actually have to push the door _and_ walk. Don't push it too fast or you'll run over not only yourself but whoever else is in the door. Make sure you get out once you get to the opening inside the building. That kind of thing), and then demonstrate for them. They do well enough, though Mr. Weasley looks a little too excited to be considered normal. Hopefully it will just be passed off as a man eager to regain his son.

After we're all inside with no mishaps I lead the way to the desk at the other end of the small lobby. The room is shabby like the outside, but clean. The wallpaper is faded and starting to peel, but the floor is clean and it smells like artificial lemon with a heavy chemical undertone. There's a young blonde woman sitting behind the chipped desk surveying us all politely and waiting good-naturedly as we approach.

"Good afternoon," she says once we reach the desk. "How can I help you today?"

"Umm we've been told you have a man named Fred Weasley umm, in your care," I tell her. "We'd like to take him home."

She eyes me carefully for a moment and then her eyes flit between George and Mr. Weasley standing behind me. Her eyes settle on George for just a moment too long before she turns around to leaf through the file folders behind her.

"We do have a patient here by the name Fred Weasley that was brought in off the street a few months ago and no family has ever come for him. In order to take him with you I'll need to see your ID's as proof that you are family," she says eyeing me with a distrustful frown.

"Right here!" George says, slapping his plastic ID down on the counter in front of her. She jumps a bit at the sudden move but recovers quickly and picks up the ID to examine. She smiles at George and nods.

"Thank you Mr. Weasley. I must say you look just like him. I'm guessing you're the twin he's always going on about?" she asks. George beams and nods at her as Mr. Weasley hands over his ID as well. She approves him and then turns back to me.

"And yours?" she asks.

"Oh I'm not really family," I say hurriedly.

George throws an arm around my shoulder and says boisterously, "Well not yet anyway. Her and Freddy are engaged."

I flush as the receptionist looks doubtfully at my bare ring finger. I shove George's arm off me.

"George don't you say a word to Fred," I hiss at him before turning back to the receptionist with a sad apologetic smile. "Sorry. Fred had an uh- accident right before we… lost him. It messed up his memory a bit and he er- doesn't remember me. So if you could just not say anything about me being his f-fiancé… Last time we told him he flipped out and that's how he ended up here I guess," I explain in what I hope is a convincing tone. Her expression softens immediately and she becomes much friendlier towards me.

"Oh of course dear. I'm so sorry for such a terrible thing to happen. Poor Fred. I'll just have someone go fetch him shall I? Oh and don't worry. I won't breathe a word," she says, miming zipping her lips. I allow a relieved grin to stretch my lips.

"Thank you."

She disappears down the hall to our left and I round on George.

"George Weasley if you say a word about the stupid marriage law to Fred while we're here I will break your arms and throw you in the Black Lake," I hiss venomously. George takes an involuntary step back and then grins.

"Of course I won't Cory. I'm not stupid," he says flippantly. I scowl.

"Don't call me Cory," I say and then turn back to the hall just as a red blur darts in front of me and attacks George.

"GEORGE!" the blur, no, man yells as he strangles George in a hug. George doesn't seem to mind much though as he's doing his best to do the same to, who else but Fred Weasley? I glance at George and see to my surprise that he has tears running down his face. I turn bewildered to Mr. Weasley and see he's all misty eyed as well.

I retreat several steps to give the family some space for their tearful reunion. I end up standing beside the receptionist and an older female orderly who, I'm assuming, was the one to escort Fred to the lobby. They're both wiping their eyes and exchanging smiles though looking a bit sad at the same time.

The elder woman catches me looking and smiles kindly at me.

"We're so happy for Fred. He's been one of the staff's favorites though. So it's going to be hard saying goodbye," she explains. I nod and wordlessly begin examining my hands.

"I'm sure everything will work out," the receptionist says giving my shoulder a squeeze, no doubt thinking I'm nervous about bringing Fred home, rather than dreading having to break the news to him and then deal with his reaction… And then marry him… And then spend the rest of my life with him and birth his babies and do his laundry and clean up after him and-

"Cora! What are you doing over there? Get over here!" George suddenly yells. I shake myself from my depressing musings. If I allow myself to continue on with this train of thought _I'll_ be the one in the mental institution. I reluctantly slog over to the Weasley's and am relieved to see that they've at least regained control of their tear ducts. Not that there's anything wrong with crying. I just have no idea how to comfort crying people so they make me uncomfortable.

Now that Fred and George are standing side by side I can see their differences, or rather lack thereof. Seriously, they look exactly alike. They even both look a little too pale and under fed. It's crazy. How the hell am I supposed to do this? And then George pulls a goofy face and I know it's him. I roll my eyes and smile just a wee bit.

"So who's this?" Fred asks looking curious, but not unfriendly. I level a stern stare at George reminding him of my earlier threat. He just grins at me and winks.

"She's Cora. We'll tell you all about her later," George tells Fred. Fred shrugs, seeming to trust his brother's judgment.

"Alright," he agrees easily. "Pleasure to meet you Cora. I'm Fred."

"Obviously," I scoff causing the pair to laugh like I just told a really witty joke. I glance at Mr. Weasley to see if this is normal, but he's too busy smiling fondly at his boys.

"Alright I better go say goodbye and then we can get out of here," Fred says. "I can't wait for some of mum's cooking."

Then he bounds off and scoops both the orderly and the receptionist into a big hug causing both ladies to giggle.

"Laura my dear I shall miss you so," Fred tells the elder witch solemnly kissing her hand. "Give dear Elliot a nice wallop in the back of the head for me next time he says something insensitive to Elsie."

Laura giggles again.

"It's not going to be the same without you here to brighten up the place Fred," she tells him.

"I'll come back and visit," Fred promises. He then turns to the receptionist.

"Maggie, are you sure you won't dump your boyfriend for me? I'm not a patient anymore after all," Fred says teasingly with a dramatic wink. Maggie giggles shyly with an uncomfortable look over Fred's shoulder at me. I try to keep my face blank and not show how much his flirting does bug me even though I know he has no idea about the marriage law.

"I'm sure," she tells him with a smile. "Now go off with your family and don't forget to visit."

"Ma'am yes, ma'am!" Fred salutes. "Tell everyone else I said goodbye and to cause some mischief for me!"

"Of course," Maggie tells him. Then Fred springs back over to us and we exit the building, Fred waving goodbye once over his shoulder and then never looking back.

My stomach is a knot of nerves as we walk down the muggle streets back to our disapparation point, me trailing behind the three Weasleys. It's going to happen soon and then I'll actually have to interact with and try to make things work with Fred. I walk with my head down, examining the sidewalk beneath my sneakers while thoughts of my future whirl through my mind.

I don't know _anything_ about Fred. I don't know what kind of food he likes, what his sleeping habits are, or if he prefers early mornings or late nights. I don't even know his favorite color! For God's sake, he could be gay for all I know! A crazed chuckle escapes from my lips at the thought. It should horrify me (not that I have anything against gay people), but I can't help but think that it wouldn't be so bad. There would be no expectations at least. Suddenly an elbow jab to the arm jars me from my thoughts.

"What's so funny," George demands. I blink. I hadn't even noticed he and Fred had fallen back to walk on either side of me like bookends leaving Mr. Weasley to lead the way.

"Absolutely nothing," I say elbowing him back, because his had kind of hurt.

"Then why did you laugh?" he presses, jabbing me again.

"That wasn't a laugh. It was a chuckle," I hedge, elbowing him back. George snorts.

"Okay Miss Technical, why did you _chuckle_?" he amends, continuing our now game of elbowing the other after we speak.

"Because I'm hilarious, that's why," I tell him. There's no way I'm going to tell him that I was laughing about the hope that Fred would turn out to be gay. George snorts.

"You haven't even experienced hilarious yet," George tells me arrogantly. "Fred and me are the _kings_ of hilarity." I snort and instead of answering I drag Mr. Weasley away from the bicycle rack he stopped to examine exclaiming about the eccentrics of muggle art, earning a few stares from the muggles.

"So how long have you two been together?" Fred asks conversationally, smirking between George and me. I trip over a crack in the sidewalk, but George continues unfazed.

"_We_ aren't together, _you_ two are," George replies with a smirk of his own.

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	7. Kingsley Shacklebolt

**AN: First things first, a shout out to all of my reviewers, favorites, and followers: You all rock! I'm glad you're enjoying my story. **

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_Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling. I know, I know. It's incredibly disappointing._

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**Chapter 7: Kingsley Shacklebolt**

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"_We_ aren't together, _you_ two are," George replies with a smirk of his own.

I gasp and punch George in the arm.

"I told you-!"

George cuts me off.

"You told me not to tell him while we were _there_. You never said anything about while we're _here_," he says cockily. I glare at him.

"You are an absolute idiot."

"Would one of you mind telling me what the two of you are going on about?" Fred demands, looking confused but not angry. "If this is supposed to be a prank George it's a pretty lame one. I've never even met this girl before, let alone asked her out. You're slipping Georgie."

I glance uncomfortably at George who doesn't seem to mind the load that he's about to dump on his brother's shoulders. Instead he smirks at me with a mischievous twinkle in his eye before turning to Fred.

"What was it you said we should tell him Cora? Something along the lines of '_Welcome home Freddie. We're so glad you're not actually dead! Oh! By the way, the Ministry betrothed you to some girl you've never met before while you were gone and you'll be married within the next two months. Surprise!"_

I glare ferociously at George.

"I never said we should say that to him you git! I was just pointing out the irony of the situation!" I shout angrily. George waves his hand dismissively.

"Ah details, details. The long and short of it dear brother," George says turning back to his severely confused twin, "is that the Ministry passed a marriage law that matched up everyone between ages 17 and 40 and is forcing them to either get married or go to Azkaban. And you and Cora are matched!" He says it like Fred just won the lottery. Fred glances at me and then cracks a smile at his twin.

"Ha ha, very funny Georgie. You almost had me there," he says, shaking his head in amusement. "Very elaborate, but not very believable. Better luck next time." George grins even wider at Fred's denial and I realize that this is all just a big joke to him. He's just trying to pull one over on his brother without thinking about how Fred might react to such news.

"George-," I warn him, but he ignores me.

"That's the best part, Freddie," George says gleefully. "It's not a joke. It's true."

Fred snorts. "Okay then. Who are _you_ matched with?" he asks. George's face falls and suddenly he looks uncomfortable for the first time. That's when I remember that Angelina is Fred's ex. Fred's grin drops off his face and splats on the pavement as he catches sight of George's face. He stops in his tracks, forcing us to both stop as well. By the look on his face I know that he now knows that none of this is a joke. He stares in stunned amazement between me and George.

"Maybe we should just get back to the-," I start quietly, but Fred cuts me off.

"I don't believe anybody asked _you_," Fred says loudly and then turns away from me and back to George, thoroughly blocking me out. I stiffen and stare open mouthed at the back of his head for a moment before the rage rises up in me and then I am _furious_.

All I can think is that this is foreshadowing the rest of my life. Fred will dismiss me whenever I'm not needed. He'll try to train me to speak only when spoken to. He'll try to transform me into his meek little housewife while he carries on as he always has; nothing changed for him while my life is full of misery and suppressed anger.

No way in _hell,_ am I going to let that happen. From this moment on I'm not going to take a single thing Fred Weasley tries to dish out at me. I might as well write off George as well. There's no way he'll go back on his twin.

I grab Fred's shoulder and spin him around. Since he's the same height as George I can look dead into his eyes, mine blazing in a rage that far outstrips his own.

"_Excuse me_?" I demand through clenched teeth. He raises his eyebrows and opens his mouth to make some disparaging remark I'm sure, but I don't give him the opportunity. "You think you're the only one affected here? You think I _want_ to marry you? This wasn't exactly my choice buddy," I snarl, giving him a hard poke in the chest. "And I'll be damned if I'm going to just let you steamroll over me and mess up my life more than it already has been. If you think I'm just going to sit when you say sit and stay when you say stay you've got another think coming."

I glare one more time at George just for being such a colossal idiot and then stomp off to go catch up to Mr. Weasley. My blood is rushing through my ears and my thoughts are raging through my head like a freight train. I'm just _so_ _mad_. I feel like I could explode at a moment's notice just from the sheer force of it all.

Finally I catch up to Mr. Weasley who's waiting just outside our alley, no doubt avoiding the smell for as long as he can.

"There you are," he says brightly, oblivious to everything that just happened between me and the Weasley twins. "I was worried you'd all gotten lost."

I just shake my head, not trusting myself to speak. A few moments later the twins come into view and Mr. Weasley sighs in relief. Within a minute we've disappeared from the foul-smelling alley and reappeared at the Burrow.

I stomp into the house ahead of our group and a wall of anxious voices hits me as I step across the threshold. It seems everyone has managed to come home to greet Fred. I'm oddly relieved at this. Maybe Rylie and I will be able to slip out early in all the hubbub. I leave the door open behind me for the others, but still don't look back. I'm angry and frustrated, but somehow I don't want to take it out on them any more than I already have and if I'm forced to interact with them I know I will.

The voices lead me to the sitting room which seems even more pressed for space than usual. There are way too many people here for it to just be the Weasley family. It seems Fred has got himself a whole welcoming party. I stop just outside the doorway and then groan a bit. Of course my conscious won't just let me let him go in there unprepared. If it was me I'd want to spend some time with just me and my family instead of a whole mob of people. I sigh and curse my Hufflepuff qualities for not the first time in my life and then turn back to catch Fred just as he, George, and Mr. Weasley are walking through the front door.

Him and George are cracking up about something, but as soon as Fred sees me coming he stops abruptly and his lip curls slightly. I scowl at the less than warm welcome. And when I was just coming to help him out too.

"There's a whole mob of people in there just so you know," I mumble, trying not to glare at him too much. His face remains unreadable for just a moment too long and then he beams and nudges George.

"Well then let the party begin!" he says and then bounds into the sitting room, George close behind. George at least spares me a backward glance before catching up with Fred. A roar of loud excitable voices erupts from the room's occupants as the twins enter. Mrs. Weasley's sobs are unmistakable.

I frown after them and wonder how on earth we got matched. We are _nothing_ alike. My chest hurts as I wonder how we are possibly going to make this work. Then I shake the thoughts from my head. This is not the time or place for a break down.

Mr. Weasley places a warm hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. I look up at him and he bestows a sad smile upon me before trailing after his sons. I sigh and lean against the wall, allowing myself to wallow for a few moments. Then I straighten up, square my shoulders, and walk into the room with my chin up.

I see Fred in the center of the room yucking it up with George at his side. They're surrounded by people and seem to be jointly telling a story. I tune it out and start searching through the room for Rylie. Finally I find her in the corner with Hermione flipping idly through magazines and chatting about wedding things. She sees me approaching and jumps up.

"Cora! Fred seems, er- nice?" she says, glancing over at Fred who looks like he's having the time of his life. He's probably thinking he should have faked his death ages ago so he could get all this attention.

"He seems like a conceited git," I correct her. Hermione behind her laughs, having obviously overheard.

"He does come off that way doesn't he?" she says. "But he's really not once you get to know him." I roll my eyes at her, in no mood for social niceties.

"So basically he's an arsehole, but you get used to it," I snap. Rylie looks a bit panicked at my outburst while Hermione seems to be shocked speechless. I turn back to Rylie.

"You ready to go?"

"Let me grab my stuff," she says quickly and rushes back to the spot of floor she'd been occupying and starts shoving magazines back into her oversized tote. A few seconds later she's stooped under the weight of her tote and ready to go. I roll my eyes at her and take the bag from her shoulder. I cast a feather light charm on it and then place it on my own shoulder. Rylie grins sheepishly. Of all my siblings, she has the hardest time remembering about the conveniences of magic.

I roll my eyes again, but this time with the slightest upquirk of my lips.

"Let's blow this popsicle stand," I tell her and we begin making our way to the door.

"Cora? Cora Rivers is that you?" a booming voice calls out. The room quiets a bit at the question. I spin around and search for the owner. I'd know that deep slow voice anywhere. Finally I catch sight of him making his way over from the other side of the room and my first real smile of the day blossoms on my face.

"Kingsley!" I exclaim, beaming. He smiles as he finally reaches us and puts one of his large dark hands on each of my shoulders.

"How are you? I didn't know you were friends with the Weasleys!" he says happily, dropping his hands to his sides. My smile drops and I press my lips into a firm line.

"It's been a recent development," I say stiffly. Kingsley studies my face seriously for a moment before smiling sadly.

"You've been matched?" he asks, but I know it's not really a question. Every unmarried witch and wizard aged 17 to 40 has been matched so of course I have. "Which one?" he asks.

"Fred," I bite out through gritted teeth. I can't stop myself from glancing in his direction and that's when I realize that the focus of the room has shifted from him to me. I quickly turn back to Kingsley just as he bursts into laughter. I gape at him in shocked offense for a moment before punching him in the arm.

"Why are you laughing at me you git?" I demand fiercely. He manages to turn his outright laughter into amused chuckles.

"The two of you could out-stubborn a mule." He says. Then instead of elaborating he catches sight of Rylie behind me.

"Hello, you must be Rylie," he says holding out a hand. Rylie comes forward with a smile to shake it.

"Yes, and you're Kingsley Shacklebolt," she says confidently.

"Umm hello?!" I bring their attention back to me. "That still doesn't really explain why you think this is so funny."

He grins. "Oh I'm sure anyone who knows the two of you could see it," he says cryptically. I scowl, but drop the topic knowing that if Kingsley doesn't want to tell me something he won't.

"What are you doing here? I didn't know you were friends with the Weasleys," I say, turning his own question back on him. He smiles.

"We were all in The Order together," he tells me proudly. I smirk. Of course.

"I knew it," I tell him smugly. He laughs, his deep booming laugh reverberating through the room.

"I know you knew it," he tells me. "That was one of the things that made you the best assistant I've ever had. You had the intelligence to figure it out and the good sense not to talk about it. That and your loyalty, ability to keep secrets, and not having anything against breaking rules for the greater good."

I blush slightly at the praise and roll my eyes.

"I didn't really _break_ any rules. I just _bent_ them when the occasion called for it," I rationalize. And then I gasp in realization.

"Wait a second! That means you know how to do that talking Patronus thing!" I exclaim. He laughs again, a deep belly laugh that I've only heard from him a few times. I can't help but smile even as I prepare to berate him.

"Yes, I know how to do 'that talking Patronus thing'," he admits with a chuckle.

"And you never taught me! Traitor," I glare playfully at him. He just smiles and shrugs.

"Never came up," he shrugs. I roll my eyes.

"And here I thought we were a team," I say. "And speaking of, when do I get to come back to work?" I demand. "I've been bored to tears at home all the time. The Ministry has got to be safe for Muggleborns again by now. Or as safe as it ever was before the war at any rate."

Kingsley immediately looks uncomfortable and I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously. He hardly ever looks uncomfortable. Usually he's right at home in his own skin.

"Er- Actually the position has already been filled with- er, someone else," he says. My jaw drops and a black hole rips open in my chest. I've been replaced? I thought we worked well together. Kingsley _needs_ me. But now he's just gone and gotten himself somebody else? Why? What did I do wrong? Why am I not good enough anymore?

"What?" I ask, and I'm embarrassed at how small and broken my voice sounds. Kingsley flinches as though I've struck him, but then straightens up to his full height and puts a kind although condescending expression on his face.

"I think it's time for you to move on," he says. _What?_ I repeat mentally. "You've got too much potential to waste it just as someone's assistant, even mine."

I gape at him for a moment, still overwhelmed by the immense hurt wracking my chest. Then the anger comes in and I'm furious. How dare he? How dare _any of them_ think that they can just control my life?

"How dare you?" I snarl in a vicious whisper. Kingsley at least has the good grace to look ashamed.

"How dare you make my decisions for me!" I bellow furiously.

"It's for the best-,"

I cut Kingsley off with a sharp slap across the face. The room is now in a stunned silence.

"You ministry types are all the same aren't you?" I growl in a quiet but powerful tone. "You think that just because you've got power you can lord it over people and make decisions for them! Well forget you Shacklebolt! I don't need you!"

I spin away from him and storm from the room, leaving an astonished silence in my wake. I burst out the back door and slam it savagely behind me. A sob rips from my throat and I'm horrified to realize that I'm battling tears. On impulse I turn on the spot and disapparate, fleeing the scene just before George and Rylie come barreling out of The Burrow behind me.

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	8. The Willow

_Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling. I know, I know. It's incredibly disappointing._

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**AN: Just an FYI, most of the chapters are going to be a wee bit longer from here on out. I've been trying to keep them short because I have a tendency to ramble and overwrite, but these ones just couldn't be helped. Happy Reading!**

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**Chapter 8: The Willow**

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I figure I've got maybe ten seconds to compose myself before the willow leaves are torn open so George Weasley can come force his presence upon me. I knew who it would be as soon as I heard the crack of apparation as he arrived. No one else would know to look for me here.

Then, just as I have predicted, George invites himself into my sanctuary and sits beside me. Unfortunately ten seconds was not long enough to get myself together.

No matter how many times I wipe the tears from my cheeks more just keep coming to replace them. I hate this overwhelming stress. I hate that I'm like this. I hate crying. I hate being weak. I put my face down in my hands to hide it and try to stifle my sobs. Then I feel a hesitant arm go around my shoulders and I freeze. George tugs me over until my head is on his shoulder and then strokes his fingers down my ponytailed hair in what should be a soothing manner.

To me though, it's just weird. I've never had someone do this for me before. I've never cried on anyone's shoulder. Through choice of my own, I've never allowed myself to break down and be comforted by someone. When I break down I prefer for there to be no witnesses. It's just how I operate. The surprise of George's offer at least gets me to stop crying although I'm still hiccupping slightly from the unexpected onslaught of tears.

I lean away from him and wipe my face. Then I rest my forehead on my raised knees as I try to focus on getting my breathing back under control. It's hard when I'm distracted by George just being here. It just feels unnatural. I should be alone.

"So correct me if I'm wrong," George starts speaking slowly and quietly as though trying not to scare me off, "but that seemed like it was about a lot more than just losing your job."

I hiccup. Of course it's about more than just that. It's about _all_ of it. _Everything_. It's about me losing a job that I _loved_. It's about the marriage law. It's about yelling at Fred. It's about the hated residual stress from this whole terrible day/week. It's about yet another person making a choice about _my_ life and _my_ future for me without even talking to me about it. It's about the bleak future ahead of me. It's about the uncertainty. It's about having _no idea_ what to even _do_ about _any_ of it.

"Well there's one good thing to come out of the job thing at least," George says after several seconds without a response from me. I finally lift my head and stare miserably at him.

"What?" I ask with a pathetic sniff. George smiles sadly at me and tugs fondly at a lock of hair that has come out of my ponytail. I take it from him and tuck it behind my ear with a scowl. He just smiles.

"Remember last time we were here and you told me that your career choice wasn't what you'd had planned? Well maybe now is your chance to do what you wanted to do before," he says. I frown thoughtfully and turn to stare at the wall of leaves in front of us. That sounds great in theory. The only problem is… I'm afraid.

I know, pathetic right? Being afraid of a _job_? It's silly and irrational, but I just can't help it. Working with Kingsley was a safe job. No risk. People had low expectations for me, being an assistant just out of school, so it was easy to impress them. To go into Experimental Charms would be a risk. And it's been so long since I've really practiced a lot of charms… I'm not sure if I'd be any good at it.

"What's this job that you missed out on anyway?" George asks curiously after a long silence on my end.

"Experimental Charms," I mumble. George brightens noticeably.

"Really?" he asks with genuine interest. I can't help the amused smile that teases my lips.

"Yes, really," I reply.

"That would be so cool!" George crows. I grin fully now.

"Are you any good?" he asks. I pull a face.

"I was back in school, but I don't know anymore. I'm out of practice," I explain reluctantly.

"Well don't worry about it," he tells me, waving away my concern. "We'll help you practice and get you back up to snuff in no time! And then you can go ace the interview and get your dream job."

I grin at his enthusiasm, but then his words catch up to me and the smile fades.

"We?" I ask tentatively.

"Well yeah. Me and Fred of course," he answers giving me a look like, duh you should know this. I give him my own dubious look, but keep the opinion to myself that Fred will want nothing to do with me. Upon seeing my face his expression goes all soft again.

"Hey don't worry about Fred," he tells me. "He'll come around, he always does. It was just a bit of a shock to him and I admit I probably could've found a more tactful way to tell him."

I snort loudly at this last bit. Not my best choice of response seeing as I've just been crying all over the place. I surreptitiously wipe my nose on my sleeve.

"Yeah like _not_ in the middle of a street full of muggles five minutes after we've just rescued him from a mental home he's been stuck in for the past two months?" I ask incredulously. "What were you even thinking?"

George at least has the good grace to look a bit embarrassed even if he's still grinning.

"I- er got a bit carried away," he confesses. "But you've got to admit that the look on his face was priceless!" I roll my eyes and before I know it we're laughing together about absolutely nothing. And it feels good. Unfortunately I sober much more quickly than I want to.

"George what if I'm no good?" I ask self-consciously. George gives me a look.

"Cor I've known you for a week and I already know you're good," he says earnestly. I stare at him doubtfully.

"Really!" he continues upon seeing my disbelief. "Those ID's that you charmed for us were perfect. That receptionist didn't even look suspicious! And look! This bag should weight a _ton_," he says, gesturing to Rylie's magazine bag lying beside me in the dirt. "But it practically _floats_." He proves his point by blowing on it, causing it to flutter up and over an inch or two just like a feather.

"That's only two things," I say unconvinced. "And anyone can do a feather light charm. That's second year stuff."

George rolls his eyes and groans.

"Well call it a gut feeling then," he says. I roll my eyes.

"You Gryffindor's and your gut feelings," I say fondly, "You'd think your gut was attached to your brain with the way you lot go by it."

George laughs.

"Isn't it?" he asks. I just chuckle and shake my head. We sit in silence for a while longer before George suggests that we go back.

"Do we have to?" I whine. "Can't I just go live under a rock for the rest of my life? I'm an absolute _mess_ and I've just made an utter fool of myself, _again_."

George laughs.

"Only if you're okay with leaving Rylie with us Weasley's forever," he grins wolfishly while helping me to my feet. I groan again.

"Oh God, I completely lost it in front of Rylie. She must think I've gone off my rocker." I wasn't looking forward to going back before, but now I'm _definitely_ not.

"Don't be thick," George says as he grabs my hand and pulls me out from under the tree, despite my best efforts to stay. "She knows you're human. She's just worried about you."

"She is?" I ask with a pained grimace. "She's not _supposed_ to worry about me. It's supposed to be the other way around." George turns to look at me, confused.

"You can't shelter your siblings from everything in life you know," he tells me. I shoot him a look.

"That's never been more obvious than it is now," I deadpan as we begin walking back towards the Burrow rather than apparating. George offers me a sympathetic look, but says nothing. After a few minutes of walking in silence, I groan again as a thought hits me.

"What?" George asks, stopping beside me.

"Did I _really_ slap Kingsley?" I moan. George laughs and slaps me on the back before continuing down the road. I resume trudging along beside him.

"Yes! And it was brilliant!" George crows. "And how you were messing with him before you got all mad? That was awesome too."

I shoot him a confused look. "What do you mean? I was just treating him how I always do. We always mess with each other." George grins at me and shakes his head at my apparent obtuseness.

"Well I guess _you_ wouldn't see anything particularly bold about that," he says. I frown at him.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well with your dad and all," he elaborates without really elaborating.

"What?" I demand.

"Your dad is kinda scary alright!" he finally spits out, not looking the least bit ashamed of saying so. I snort.

"He is not," I refute. George gives me a look.

"He is. We all talked about it after you guys left the other night. Your dad is pretty intimidating."

I'm quiet for a minute as I try to see my dad from an outsider's point of view. Sure he's tall, but not super tall. He's only just under six feet. Jon is taller. He's muscular, but not buff. It must be his presence, I decide. He used to be in the army, only as a nurse but still, and he has that military stance and aura about him. To me he's just my goofy dad who's sarcastic and likes to laugh and poke fun. He's where I get my sense of humor. But I suppose to someone who doesn't know him like I do he could be intimidating.

"Okay," I concede the point to George. "But what does my dad have to do with Kingsley?"

"Well I mean if you're used to being around an intimidating man then other intimidating men won't seem so intimidating to you right?" George asks. I shrug.

"Well I suppose… Wait. Does this mean you think Kingsley is intimidating?" I ask curiously. Honestly I've never been intimidated by him or… Anyone really now that I think about it. Scared for my life sure, but never simply intimidated. George gives me a patronizing stare.

"_Everyone_ thinks Kingsley is intimidating," he says dryly. "He's a big black crime fighting machine! How could that not intimidate you? He could crush you like a bowtruckle in one hand!"

I laugh loudly at his description of Kingsley. I can't help it! It's just too funny.

"Let's get back," I say through my chuckles. George shoots me an incredulous look and gestures to the road under our feet.

"I thought that's what we were already doing," he says. I arch my eyebrow at him and without another word turn on my heel and disapparate. I reappear in the same spot in front of the Burrow's front gate as I did last time, only this time I stand and wait for George to appear instead of racing for the house. I don't have to wait long before George appears a foot and a half to my right.

"Well that was rude," he says with a mock sniff sounding very much like Percy. I roll my eyes and grin.

"Well you'll have to forgive me Mr. Manners, but I have a few apologies that I am quite eager to get over with," I tell him as we begin heading for the house. George vaults himself over the gate and then turns and waits for me. I give him a disparaging look then pointedly open the gate and step through like a normal person before allowing it to swing shut behind me. He just grins and continues on.

"Too right you do," he agrees. "Who besides Kingsley is getting the honor of an apology?"

I grimace. "Well I suppose Fred deserves one. I did go off on him. And Rylie will get one once we get home. I kind of abandoned her." George nods in agreement.

"You weren't totally out of line with Fred though," he tells me. "He was rather being a git."

"Yes but he'd just had a shock so he's entitled. Me on the other hand should be able to control my temper," I explain. George just shrugs.

"I kinda like your temper. You never know when you're going to get treated to a show," he says with a wink. I scowl and stick my foot out to trip him. He skips over it and sticks his tongue out in response before running into the house. I shake my head and follow at a much slower pace. Here goes nothing.

Kingsley's apology is awkward and quick. We both admit we could have handled things differently and the only thing to do now is keep moving forward. I apologize especially for slapping him to which he just grins and says that he'd probably warranted a slap anyway; if not for this incident then for something else.

Fred's goes very poorly in comparison. Turns out it's pretty difficult to apologize to someone when they're doing their best to ignore you. I couldn't even get him to _look_ at me. I was just about to lose my temper again when I heard someone yell my name in the very near vicinity.

"CORA!"

"Jesus!" I jump and swivel around. Then I realize who yelled and let out a loud groan. "But I don't wanna," I whine under my breath while digging in my pocket and walking towards the backdoor. No doubt this conversation will call for some privacy. My hand collides with a small handheld mirror. I lift it to my face and grimace at the image as I plop down on a garden bench.

"I heard that. And about damn time you stopped avoiding me," my best friend Sam's reflection says snottily from the mirror. She's Indian (as in, from India) and absolutely beautiful. She has dark eyes, and sleek dark hair, and a flawless complexion. Well except for the giant purple burn streaking across the left side of her face from a childhood floo mishap. But burn or no burn, I've always been secretly jealous of her natural beauty.

"It was an accident," I tell her. She lifts a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

"An accident that you've been leaving your mirror in the bottom of your underwear drawer for the past two weeks?" she accuses.

"No an accident that I stopped avoiding you," I say with a smirk. "I grabbed the mirror out of habit. I meant to leave it at home again."

Sam scowls at me. "Prat. Why have you been avoiding me?" she demands. I put on a sad mopey face and try to look remorseful.

"Because I've been wallowing in my pit of despair and I wasn't ready for you to pull me out of it yet," I tell her, caking on as much pathetic-ness as I can.

"Well what if I needed _you_ to pull me out of _my_ pit of despair?" Sam whines. I drop the act and roll my eyes.

"What? Does your match not have enough money for you?" I tease. She purses her lips and scowls.

"Why would that matter to me?" she sniffs. I laugh at this.

"Really?" I ask. "You've only been saying that you're going to marry a very rich and very busy healer since first year. All of the money with minimal commitment."

"Yeah. Well. Things change," she says uncomfortably. I frown as she drops her eyes and looks away.

"Who's your match?" I ask, finally being serious. She hesitates and then looks up at me again look wary.

"You know Ava Walters? She was a year above you in Hufflepuff," she says slowly as though gaging my reaction. I furrow my brow in thought for a moment and then nod.

"Yeah she was nice enough. Does she have a brother or something?" I ask. Sam just stares at me wide eyed and it takes me a minute, but I get what she's saying. Or at least I think I do.

"Wait. What? Are you matched to Ava?!" I ask, thoroughly gob smacked. Sam nods minutely. I jump to my feet and begin pacing the garden.

"How could the Ministry-? What gives them-? Don't worry Sam we'll get this worked out. I'm sure they can match you with someone else. I mean you're not- You're not-," But I catch sight of her face in the mirror and it tells me that I'm wrong.

"You're gay?!" I all but yell. Sam winces, but nods silently. My mouth drops open and I collapse back down on the bench in shock, allowing the mirror to dangle between my legs. She never told me. We've been friends for a decade and she never said a word. I can't speak; I can't even look at her for a minute as I try to get my bearings straight. Finally I lift the mirror back up to my face and ask the question.

"Why? Why didn't you ever tell me? I mean, I'm your best friend. Shouldn't _I_ of all people have known?" I ask, trying and failing to maintain a poker face so she won't see how hurt I am. I've never had a poker face. Sam always says I never would have survived in Slytherin because of this. I always say I never would have survived in Slytherin because of the stench.

"You mean… You don't hate me?" she asks tentatively, almost like she can't believe it. I give her a look that clearly states the very thought is bat shit crazy.

"Well I considered hating you for like a half a second because it's been _10 bloody years_ and you haven't said a _word_, but then I was all _Nah_. That would mean I'd have to find a new best friend and that's just too much work," I joke, coming to terms with the situation. Don't get me wrong, I'm still peeved that she never told me, but there are some things that are just more important than petty grudges; my best friend knowing that I accept her as she is, is one of them.

"Really?" she asks.

"No you nutter," I snap. "I was joking!"

She laughs and shakes her head.

"I know, I just meant. You don't have a problem with me being a lesbian? It doesn't make you uncomfortable?"

I roll my eyes.

"Lady I wouldn't care if you turned out to be half dragon… Actually that would be kinda cool," I muse. She laughs again looking relieved.

"You're nutters," she tells me. "How did we become friends again?"

"Umm I told you your face looked cool and you punched me," I say thoughtfully with a reminiscent smile. She snickers, no doubt remembering that fateful incident on the Hogwarts Express our first year. Incredibly it was when we were traveling back to the station for Christmas break so we'd already been sorted and acclimated to our houses. Most people thought it was unnatural, a Hufflepuff and a Slytherin being friends, and me being Muggleborn no less. It only got worse as the years passed, but it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to the two of us and honestly we've never really put much stock into what other people think anyway.

She took me out of my comfort zone and taught me how to speak my mind. I reeled her back in and kept her down to earth. She told me once that it was because of me that she never got swept up in the Pureblood mania that took root in Slytherin house. We've come to the conclusion that every Slytherin needs a Hufflepuff. We badgers are good at curbing their ambition and making sure that they don't trample other people on their way to their goals.

"So you're matched to Ava," I say, coming out of my thoughts. "You could do worse."

She smiles and I can tell just by her expression that she's already half in love with the girl.

"So who's your match?" she asks curiously. "It must be bad if you've been hiding from me. No let me guess. Hmmmm. Flint!"

I make a gaging face.

"Thank God no. It's just-,"

"No no! I want to guess!" she insists. I roll my eyes. She's never going to guess.

"Jeffery Mithers."

"No."

"Wilson Thames."

"No."

"Mathias Gilroy."

"_Hell_ no."

"Nathaniel-,"

"Oh for-! It's Fred Weasley!" I exclaim. Her eyes go as round as galleons at the revelation.

"Fred Weasley?!" she all but squeals. "How did _you_ get Fred Weasley?"

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean? And how do _you_ know him?" I ask curiously. She gives me an incredulous look.

"Who doesn't know him?" she asks. "_You_ should know him. Him and his twin brother, George were the funniest guys in school. Everyone knows them. And they've got a joke shop in Diagon Alley now! How could you _not_ know them?"

I mumble something about hoping it was a different pair of Weasley Twins causing all the trouble. She rolls her eyes.

"Only you would have a problem getting matched with one of the Weasley twins," she says with a fond smile and a shake of her head. I huff and make myself more comfortable on the bench with my chin in my hand and elbow propped on one of the knees of my crossed legs.

"I think it would be a problem no matter who I got matched to. You know me and my independence," I say sadly. She gives me a look.

"I know. But it could have been a lot worse," she points out. I shrug wordlessly.

"Well," she continues when I remain silent. "It could have been McLaggen."

I grimace in horror and glare into the small mirror.

"Don't even joke about that," I say grimly. "They would've had to just throw me in Azkaban if that was the case. I wouldn't be able to take the constant 'accidental' groping. And that _ego_! Ugh. I'll take prison thanks."

Sam laughs.

"Good to see some things will never change," she says. I grin back. It is good.

.

**AN: Hi! I hope you're enjoying! I just wanted to stop in and tell you all how excited I am for this story. I've gotten through Chapter 13 written and I just love it so much! I can't wait to get it posted (which is why this update came so soon after the last one). Unfortunately I still have to revise and edit so you'll have to wait for the rest. But just to tease all of you here is a list of the titles of the chapters I have written so far:**

**Chapter 9: Betrayal**

**Chapter 10: Angie's Beef**

**Chapter 11: Chances**

**Chapter 12: Getting Along?**

**Chapter 13: The Boggart**

**I hope you're all as excited as I am. ;)**


	9. Betrayal

_Disclaimer: I am still not JK Rowling. I know, I know. It's incredibly disappointing._

_._

_**AN: Here you go folks! Let me know what you're thinking! Happy Reading!**_

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**Chapter 9: Betrayal**

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I'm hiding in the kitchen 'checking the pot roast' when I hear them arrive. One whoosh and a sudden flurry of activity coming from the sitting room signals the first Weasley. A second whoosh. A third and so on until I've counted a total of nine Weasley's. That's it then. They're all here; even Charlie whom I haven't met yet because he's been in Romania. For a moment I hesitate at the dividing door between the kitchen and sitting room thinking of how cramped it must be in there, but then I take a deep breath and pull open the door.

I was right. It is packed. My parents' house isn't small, but it's not big either and is in no way equipped to hold this many people comfortably.

"Cora! There you are," my mom calls to me as she maneuvers through the sea of people. "Would you mind doing that thing again? That you did to the kitchen? We're a bit short on space."

I smile at my poor harried mother. My mum insisted on having dinner at our place this time since it wouldn't be fair for the duty to always fall upon Mrs. Weasley. The problem was that only way we'd be able to fit this many people would be if I put an extension charm on the kitchen, which I did. It will only last a few hours, but it should be just enough time for our little gathering.

"Sure mum," I agree easily while slipping my wand from the back pocket of my jeans. I furrow my brow in concentration and make a long arm sweeping movement and then a sharp flick of my wrist causing the far wall of the room to jump back several feet. There is a collective sigh of relief from the room's occupants and my mother gives me a quick hug.

"Thank you dear that's much better," she gushes before turning away to go play hostess.

"Not good at charms my arse," says a voice to my left. I recognize it and turn to face George with a sheepish grin.

"I said that I'm out of practice, not no good," I point out. He rolls his eyes.

"Whatever. You're still bloody brilliant," he says.

"Language Fred!" Mrs. Weasley barks from across the room causing the real Fred to burst out in a violent protest from somewhere near the fireplace while George beside me cracks up. I snort and shake my head just as someone taps me on the shoulder.

"Hello," says a stocky man with curly red head that I've never seen before. He's not tall like Bill, Percy, and Ron, but he's definitely burlier than Fred and George. I spot a fresh, but healing burn peeking out of the neck of his t-shirt and several scars both old and new trailing up and down his arms.

"Oh! You must be Charlie," I say with a smile, sticking out my hand for him to shake. He grins in response and grips my hand warmly within his own.

"That's me! I'm assuming you're Cora," he leads. I nod.

"Yes and _you_ get to work with _dragons_," I say with an envious grin. "That would be so cool."

He laughs loudly at my obvious excitement.

"It's not as fun as it sounds actually," he explains. "It's a lot of hard manual labor and poor working conditions and I live in a _tent_."

I scoff at his attempts to deter my excitement.

"Killjoy," I accuse with a playful glare. He chuckles.

"Now I see why you got matched with Fred," he says. I crinkle my nose at the unfortunate change in topic.

"Let's talk about something more enjoyable," I suggest. "Like the current suicide rate."

He laughs again and George jumps into the conversation, obviously having been listening in.

"Aww c'mon Cor. You have to give him a chance sometime you know," he says, elbowing me lightly in the side. I scowl at him.

"I don't _have_ to actually. Sure it would make life easier, but I don't _have_ to," I insist stubbornly. "And don't call me that." George rolls his eyes.

"Dinner's ready! Everyone to the kitchen please!"

I turn away from George and Charlie both and immediately head to the kitchen, suddenly feeling antisocial. I'm the first one at the magically enlarged table and I pick one of the transfigured seats in the corner farthest away from the door. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley still manage to greet me when they come in along with Bill, Hermione, Percy, and Ginny. Fred comes in last and to my dismay it seems that everyone purposely avoided the seat beside me so he is forced to sit there. He sits stiffly beside me without turning in my direction and without any sort of greeting and I do the same. I can already tell that it's going to be a very long and awkward meal, no matter how good my mum's pot roast is.

"Hey I know you!" Fred suddenly says loud enough to gain the attention of the entire table. He's looking at Jon who is sitting across the table from me. Jon goes suspiciously pale and begins shaking his head emphatically. I narrow my eyes. Something is going on here.

"No. No you-," but Fred speaks over Jon's feeble protests.

"Yes I do," Fred states confidently. "You were at the final battle. I saved you from a Death Eater that had you pinned."

I feel the blood drain from my face at the words. It can't be true. Jon stayed behind. He stayed with Rylie and Seb and kept them safe. I would've known… I look at Jon and he's staring fearfully and shamefaced at me. When we make eye contact he drops his eyes to his lap and that's when I know it's true. That he _lied_ to me.

"You went to Hogwarts?" I ask, my voice a deadly calm that I don't feel. On the inside I'm shaking with rage. He looks up guiltily into my eyes, but then he straightens his spine, adopts a cool expression and nods. This lack of remorse only serves to fuel the burning rage in my chest.

"You _left_ Seb and Rylie, knowing mum and dad wouldn't be able to stop them from following you?" I demand, losing some of the calm and allowing a small portion of my anger to show. He drops his eyes again and the guilty expression resumes its residence upon his features. My eyes flick to Seb and Rylie on either side of him and see that their features are reflecting the same things. My jaw drops.

I shoot to my feet, knocking my chair back an entire foot behind me. My hand unconsciously moves to cover my gut where I swear I can feel the icy dagger of betrayal.

"You _all_ went?" I ask, my voice traveling up to an embarrassingly high pitch. I don't need to read any more of their expressions to know it's true. "You all could have _died_!" I exclaim in shocked outrage.

"You could have too and you still went," Seb points out, ever the Gryffindor to speak up even in the face of my temper.

"I had no choice!" I hiss. "I had a duty to uphold."

"So did we! It's our world too and it's up to _all of us_ to fight for it," Seb defends stubbornly.

"But it's _my_ job to protect _you_," I burst.

"No it's not." Rylie's small voice stops my next words in my throat. She's never one to step into an argument unless it's something she will not relent on. "You can't protect us forever Cor. We have to make our own decisions. I'm sorry we lied to you and went behind your back but arguing would have wasted time that we didn't have."

I stare at her silently for several moments and work my jaw. My eyes flit to Seb and Jon and I see the same sadness and yet steely resolution reflected in their faces. I grab my chair and collapse back into my seat angling my face towards my plate. I still feel hurt and betrayed and so, _so_ angry, but I'm logical enough to know that nothing will come from continuing to argue on this. And now is hardly the time for it anyway. The Weasleys surely think I'm a ticking time bomb as it is.

After a tense moment of silence my mum clears her throat and gets to her feet.

"How about some dinner?" she asks with a small uncertain smile. "Cora would you mind helping me bring out the dishes?"

I flick my wand at the dishes filled with food waiting on the counter top and guide them so they float across the room and then come to a gentle stop at varying lengths down the table. My mum's lips thin and she gives me a hard stare. I wince.

"Sorry mum," I mumble, even though I know her and dad must have been in on keeping this a secret from me as well. It churns my stomach knowing that my entire family was united in keeping something of this magnitude from me. Mum sighs and resumes her seat.

"You're forgiven," she responds wearily and I know she means for the scene I made as well as being deliberately belligerent just now.

From then on dinner is a slightly reserved affair as far as I can tell. The Weasley's carry on as they usually do, but Jon, Seb, Rylie, and I keep to ourselves and our plates. George tries to pull me out of it by lobbing soggy carrots over Fred at me, but I give him an unamused and maybe slightly miserable stare and he stops.

The best thing I can say about our first dinner with both families together in their entirety is that at least the food was good. Finally everyone finishes and moves to retire to the sitting room to converse before our guests leave for home. I offer to do the dishes while they all go. Dad protests at first, but mum hushes him and leads him to the sitting room saying something about letting me get my head back on straight.

I'm relieved at her interference. Honestly I don't think I would survive another hour of small talk without food to focus on. Not in the state I'm in.

I summon all the dirty dishes and pile them on the counter beside the sink while it fills with hot soapy water. Yeah I know I could just magic them all clean with a spell, but there's something soothing about doing them by hand every now and again. I know. I never thought I would say that about washing the dishes either.

I flick my wand at the door, putting up a sound barrier, and then flick it again at the radio. Music comes blaring out, but it's some oldies station that my mum likes. I swivel my wand back and forth until the station changes to something good. I grin as mine and Sam's old favorite song from 4th year plays and I beginning humming along while scrubbing the dishes with an old rag.

As always humming turns to quietly singing under my breath, which turns to singing normally, and then to belting out the lyrics at the tops of my lungs with added dance moves. Oh and I should let you know now that I'm a terrible dancer. Like, really bad. I've been told I look like a seizing flamingo, but that was by Sam so you know; take it for what you will. She _is_ just a mean Slytherin after all.

Soon enough I'm three-fourths of the way done with washing and am rocking out to _One Week _by Barenaked Ladies. You know the one.

'_It's been one week since you looked at me._

_Threw your arms in the air and said "You're crazy"._

_Five days since you tackled me,_

_I've still got the rug burns on both my knees._

_It's been three days since the afternoon,_

_You realized it's not my fault_

_not a moment too soon._

_Yesterday you'd forgiven me,_

_And now I sit back and wait til you say you're sorry'._

Only I don't know all of the words so when I sing it, it sounds more like…

"_Like humnanuma I make mad films_

_Kay, I don't make films_

_But if I did they'd HAVE A SAMURIA_

_Humahumahumahumahumahuma FLYING OFF THE BACK SWING_

_Humahumahumah mlormoon Humnahumahuma BOOOM ANIME BABES_

_THAT MAKE ME THINK THE WRONG THING!_

_Humnahuma help it if I THINK YOU'RE FUNNY WHEN YOU'RE MAD?_

_Humna hard not to smile THOUGH I FEEL BAD_

_Humnahuma guy who LAUGHS AT A FUNERAL_

_Can't understand what I mean?_

_WELL YOU SOON WILL_

_Humnahumhuma my mind on my sleeve_

_I have a history of LOSING MY SHIRT'_

I have no doubt that you all know _exactly_ what I mean.

As I'm singing and shaking my hips I plunge my rag down into a glass and manage to spray myself full in the face with a wave of water from inside the glass. I can't be the only one to have ever done this so you have no right to laugh at me. I'm sputtering and mopping my face with a towel when I _swear_ I hear a noise coming from the door to the sitting room.

I whip around, but no one's there. After several seconds of staring at the door waiting for it to move to no avail I give up on waiting and turn down the radio. I don't feel comfortable enough to continue my rock out session now. I'm paranoid that someone is going to walk in on me, which I'll admit I probably should have been concerned about before. Quickly, I finish washing the dishes by hand and then magically dry and put them away.

I'm feeling a lot better than I was earlier (music seems to have that effect on me), but I'm still not looking forward to going out there. Like at all. There's just something about getting stabbed in the back by your whole family that makes you feel a bit antisocial I guess. Regardless, I resolve myself to try and act as normal as possible.

I flick my wand at the radio to turn it off and it promptly explodes in an acrid cloud of smoke. I jump and curse loudly. Then I put out the small fire with my wand and hastily rip the cord from the wall. That being done, I perform a nifty little spell that sucks the smoke cloud into my wand like it's a vacuum before it can reach the smoke alarms. Once that crisis is averted I examine the melted mass of plastic and curse again. That's the eleventh radio I've destroyed since I've come of age.

With that thought in mind I take down my sound barrier and slip into the sitting room. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves, laughing and joking. I see mum and dad sitting beside Mr. and Mrs. Weasley on the couch having a deep conversation about something and make a bee line for them to inform my mother of the news.

"Mum I blew up your radio again. I'll replace it," I half shout from several feet away. Mum sighs in exasperation as she looks at me.

"Again? When are you going to learn that you can't control them with magic Cora? How many have we been through now? Seven?" she asks.

"Eleven," I mumble under my breath. She sighs in exasperation again, but smiles fondly at me.

"What am I going to do with you?" she asks.

"Love me. Feed me. Never leave me," I quote obligingly with a grin. She rolls her eyes like she wasn't totally expecting the response. I know she was. Then she pats the armrest beside her invitingly.

"Come have a seat," she says. "You'll be interested in this conversation."

I raise my eyebrows in curiosity and scan my eyes over her, my father, and the elder Weasleys. I balance myself on the armrest and tuck my legs up underneath me so I'm cross legged. If this is wedding talk though, I'm outta here.

"Steve honey, what were you saying?" Mum asks dad after I've made myself comfortable. Dad leans forward to better address the Weasleys.

"I was just asking what exactly happened with Fred. I mean he seems to be in perfect health, but you were absolutely certain that he was dead, right?"

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley nod looking sad at the reminder of those dark days.

"He _was_ dead," Mr. Weasley insists. "It was confirmed by our medi-witch at the school. He wasn't breathing and had no pulse for almost an entire day. No one knows how it happened. It's a miracle."

Mrs. Weasley is sniffling now and holding back tears. Mr. Weasley pulls a comforting arm around her shoulders though he looks pale and distraught himself.

"When did you notice his body was missing?" My dad asks gently.

"We didn't," Mr. Weasley says with wide eyes. "We only know what happened because we examined Fred's memories. They abruptly stop when the wall collapsed in the final battle and then suddenly start again _while he's inside his coffin_."

I blanch thinking how terrifying that would be.

"How did he get out?" mum asks in a horrified whisper.

"He panicked when he realized that he was trapped and accidentally used magic to unlock and burst the lid open. We talked to him after watching his memories and he said that he was so confused and disoriented and panicked at the time he didn't even recognize that he'd been in a coffin." Mr. Weasley stops his story for a moment to mop his sweaty brow.

"How long after he was pronounced dead was this?" my dad uses the break to ask. Mr. Weasley looks contemplative.

"Less than a full 24 hours," he answers after giving it some thought. "It must have been around 18 to 20 hours after that. The lid fell shut after he climbed out which is why we never knew and he left the funeral home and took to the streets trying to find George. He was still so bewildered and disoriented that he didn't fully realize where he was," Mr. Weasley swallows noisily, obviously having a hard time thinking about the trauma his son had to go through. "He was running around and grabbing muggles and shaking them by the shoulders yelling at them, asking where George was, what happened to the battle? Where's my wand? I need my wand."

Mrs. Weasley shudders and Mr. Weasley tightens his grip on her shoulders.

"It's no wonder the muggles called the pleas- police," Mrs. Weasley says tearfully. "He was acting like a mad man. I don't blame him of course, but there you have it."

My mum snags the box of tissues from the coffee table and offers them to Mrs. Weasley. She smiles wobbly and gratefully pulls out a couple tissues.

"So then the police came and they had to take him to the mental home?" my mother asks. Mr. Weasley nods.

"Yes. It's lucky that they took him to the mental home rather than jail with the way he was fighting with the police to get away to find George," Mr. Weasley says. Mrs. Weasley shudders again.

"Oh don't even say those things," she whimpers.

"Sorry dear," Mr. Weasley says patting her arm. "Since we've found Fred again we've had him checked over at St. Mungos and they say he's in perfect health. They're stumped. They don't understand how he can be alive at all…" He trails off and we fall into silence while all around us the Weasley children bicker and laugh and joke. My dad is sitting silently with a look of deep thought and concentration upon his face. Finally he looks up and regards the Weasleys carefully.

"I have a theory," he says slowly. "It is farfetched and sounds stark raving mad, but it fits."

"We're listening," Mr. Weasley says interestedly. No doubt eager for a feasible opinion.

"There is a phenomenon in the muggle world," dad begins slowly. "It's extremely rare and no one has been able to puzzle out how it's even possible, but it has happened against all odds. It's called Lazarus Syndrome. There are cases of people being pronounced dead and then waking up minutes or even hours later. Usually it's after CPR is administered and then ceased, but there are cases where the cause of death was some kind of trauma and then the patient just woke up some time later."

"Lazarus Syndrome."

I jump. At some point in the conversation George came over to stand beside my perch without my noticing. He smirks at me, obviously noticing my start.

"It does fit," comes Fred's voice from directly behind me.

"_Jesus_," I hiss while jumping again so badly that George places a steadying hand on my shoulder to keep me from falling. Damn sneaky twins.

"Cora," mum admonishes me with a pointed look.

"Sorry mum," I say quickly and then turn to my dad. "So what you're saying is that I have to marry a zombie?"

My dad laughs.

"Not quite," he tells me.

"But it's close enough that I could tell people that right?" I ask. He chuckles and shakes his head.

"No not really. Zombies are dead while Fred is very much alive," he explains. I jut out my lower lip in a mock pout.

"Well I'm going to tell people anyway," I insist stubbornly. "Hey Seb!" I turn and yell across the room to where he's watching Jon and Ron play chess. "I'm going to marry a zombie!"

"Sweet!" he yells back. "Where can I get one?"

"You can't. Limited addition. One of a kind. Available for a limited time only," I chant back. He shakes his head disappointedly.

"Ah. Oh well," he laments. "It would just be decomposing all over the place anyhow."

"_Your face_ decomposes all over the place," I retort with a grin and then we both laugh. This is our routine. We always insult each other with 'your face' jokes. Most of the time they're pretty lame, but every now and again we get a good one.

"Your face _looks_ like it's decomposing all over the place," Seb shoots back.

"Sebastian," mum turns away from her conversation with Mrs. Weasley to interfere sternly. Seb's jaw drops.

"Really mum?! You always yell at me and not her! She started it!" Seb complains. I just laugh at his misfortune.

"We all know she loves me more," I taunt and then leapt from the armrest to avoid the swat from my mother that I know is coming.

"Alright you lot," Mrs. Weasley says, getting to her feet. "It's time to head home. Cora would you like to come over Wednesday night for dinner?"

"Sure Mrs. Weasley," I accept gracefully. Mrs. Weasley makes excellent food. She beams at me and just then an owl comes shooting out of the fireplace. I flinch and my parents both start in surprise. The small screech owl flies towards me and my stomach drops as I recognize it.

It perches itself on the arm rest I've just vacated and sticks out its leg expectantly. I eye it distrustfully for a long moment before Seb sighs dramatically and stalks across the room to retrieve the letter for me. I don't do birds. That's why I had to charm the communication mirrors for me and Sam otherwise she'd never hear from me.

"You really need to get over this ridiculous fear," he says as he hands me the scroll of parchment. I scowl at him.

"You're afraid of owls?" George asks looking bemused. I scowl at him too.

"All kinds of birds actually," Rylie supplies helpfully from the other side of the room.

"Don't get her started on pelicans!" Jon adds. I glare at all of them. Filthy turncoats.

"Hey pelicans are scary! They have _hooks_ in their _beaks_!" I defend.

"They're bills actually, not beaks," Jon corrects me.

"Go fall in a hole," I tell him while unfurling the scroll. I scan the letter and frown sadly at its contents.

"Mrs. Weasley we're going to have to reschedule that dinner," I say distractedly as I finish reading. She frowns and eyes me with concern.

"Is everything alright dear?" she asks. I shrug halfheartedly.

"What are they wanting?" mum asks looking just as concerned.

"Sally's birthday is Wednesday," I reply slowly. "They want me to go visit her with them."

Mum nods gloomily.

"Those poor people. I couldn't imagine…" she trails off looking distraught and with a jolt I realize she's probably remembering the hours of waiting in France while _all_ of her children were off fighting in a war, not sure if any of them would make it home.

"Who's Sally," George asks.

"A girl…" I answer reluctantly. "She- She's dead. She died in the final battle and I- I was there," I say just barely above a whisper.

"Oh I'm so sorry dear," Mrs. Weasley exclaims sending a reprimanding look at George as though he's at fault for asking. "Did you know her from school?" I press my lips together and shake my head.

"No. The first time I met her was when she was dying," I say. Mrs. Weasley finds nothing to say to this and just continues to wear a distraught expression.

"So if you didn't know her why do they want you to go with them?" Fred asks, somewhat rudely. I find that I don't have it in me right now to rise to the bait so I opt for honesty.

"Sometimes it helps just to have a listening ear and a third party to simply morn with you," I say. "And they're just happy that she had someone there in the end. That she wasn't alone."

Fred looks away, obviously not expecting such a bluntly honest response. Soon after, Mrs. Weasley makes plans to have me over for dinner on Thursday and then the Weasley's leave single file through the fireplace. Fred refuses to look at me, but George stops and gives me a bone crunching hug before winking saucily and disappearing in a whirl of green flame. Once they've all left, mum gives me a hug as well and pats my shoulder.

"You're a good kid Cora," she tells me warmly. I smile and head upstairs to my room to reflect on the events of the evening. It seems my life had flipped on its head since meeting the Weasleys.

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	10. Angie's Beef

_Disclaimer: I am not still JK Rowling. I know, I know. It's incredibly disappointing._

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**AN: SURPRISE! A special treat because I got such awesome reviews last chapter. Thanks everyone! :) Happy reading!**

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**Chapter 10: Angie's Beef**

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The past two weeks have been the most emotionally draining in my life. First there was finding out about the marriage law. Then meeting my future in-laws and finding out that my fiancé was missing and presumed dead. Then there was the whole fiasco of retrieving said fiancé and catching him up on the major life-altering laws recently passed by the Ministry. After that I lost my job and slapped my former employer and friend. Then I had to apologize. Bleh.

Shortly after I found out that my best friend is gay and then that my entire family has been keeping a huge secret from me and I've had to deal trying to forgive them for it for the past several days. Then two days ago I went to a cemetery with a family that I barely know to wish a girl I held in my arms as she died a happy birthday and mourn the loss of her life with them.

I'd rather not get into that now. It's a whole mess of emotions.

Then yesterday I had dinner with my future in-laws and snipped and quarreled with my fiancé throughout the whole thing (although the food was delicious so there is that silver lining). Now all I want is a night to relax and recharge my batteries, but my future brother-in-law is insisting that I come with him and my fiancé that I can't seem to stop bickering with and see their joke shop and my best friend is calling for a triple date tonight so I can meet _her_ fiancé and she can meet mine and his twin. All in all, I really need to learn how to say _no_.

So here I am, standing outside the most outrageous building I've ever seen (and that's including the Burrow) beside my stoic fiancé while his brother is inside setting up. Apparently they haven't had much of a chance to get the shop cleaned up and put back together since Fred came back so it's still closed, but they've been working on it every spare moment until now and are finally ready to start restocking their products.

The doors to the building pop open and George sticks his head out, pausing only to roll his eyes at his twin and me, probably because we're standing a good five feet apart and looking steadfastly away from each other.

"Well come on in then," he says, shoving the doors open and gesturing the way in with a dramatic sweep of his arm. I give him a long suffering look and trail in after him.

My thoughts of how awkward this is dissolve at the sight of their shop. It's not impressive in a big or fancy way, but it is in an entirely _magical_ way. I can feel the sheer amount of magic in the room buzzing through the air. There are pops and whistles coming from everywhere and there's so much color it's overwhelming at first. Then my eyes adjust and I wordlessly go off to pursue gags and jokes and magical products that I couldn't have imagined in my wildest dreams. And then some that I could have.

"Really?" I ask, my lips twisting in amusement while I hold up a whoopee cushion. George grins unabashed and shrugs.

"Those are actually pretty popular with muggleborns," Fred says defensively, like I just slammed his dream. I raise my eyebrow at him.

"I'm aware," I say frostily. "I got Seb one for his birthday once." Then I grin at George. "It only lasted a few hours because Jon sat on it and it popped."

George and I laugh uproariously, mostly because Jon is such a scrawny little stick it's hilarious that he would be the one to pop it. I wipe a tear from my eye and still chuckling slightly resume my tour through the shop.

"The look on his face was priceless," I chortle as I look around. I stop at a few things and remark on their ingenuity. Like the Headless Hats and the 10 Second Pimple Vanishing Crème. I ignore the big empty spaces on the shelves that must've had to have been cleared out and still need to be replenished. Then I come to an end cap loaded with boxes all in different colors.

"Daydream Charms?" I ask as I pull one of the boxes down and begin reading it. My eyes widen as I taken the complexity of the item.

"This is really impressive!" I exclaim, as I shuffle through several more of the boxes. "And you have different varieties! This is so cool. How did you do this? Do you have more stuff like this?"

Then I gasp and swivel to face George (who is grinning like a maniac) and point my finger accusingly at him.

"This is why you're so adamant about me going into Experimental Charms!" I reproach. "You want me to learn their secrets and then share them with you!"

George laughs and gently pushes my finger out of his face.

"Well that would certainly be a major benefit wouldn't it?" he says, eyes sparkling with mirth. "And I won't lie and say it hasn't crossed my mind, but I do honestly think that you would be brilliant at it." I narrow my eyes at him and chew my lower lip thoughtfully. Then shake my head.

"Nope. Sorry. I can't believe a word you say on the subject now. You've got ulterior motives," I dismiss. "I'm not best friends with a Slytherin for nothin' you know." Fred scoffs as I say this.

"All the more reason _we_ shouldn't trust _you_," he says. "A muggleborn Hufflepuff who's friends with a Slytherin? It's unnatural."

"Please try to refrain from voicing your opinions Fredrick," I simper, firmly grappling my anger and tucking it under the surface of my words. "The idiocy spewing from your mouth is destroying my brain cells."

Fred all but growls at me, but George steps in before things can get too out of hand.

"Alright kids. Break it up. You guys will have to drop this petty feud and start trying to get along sometime, you know?" he says. I see the logic there, but I can't help myself. I scowl at the pair of them and turn away to go look through the shop some more. Unfortunately the light mood I had fallen into has left me. I can't even bring myself to get excited over any of the other products that I might have otherwise.

All I can think is that Fred helped create these things and that makes them less fantastic somehow. Like they've been tainted by him. Really I know that I'm being petty and that I just don't want to credit Fred with anything positive. Even if he would deserve that credit.

We're heading out the door of the shop when I remember that I was meant to invite the two of them to this triple date thing tonight. _Great_. I think. The last thing I want after the scene in there is to invite Fred to come hang out with my _Slytherin_ friend and me. But I promised I would and I don't go back on my promises.

"Er by the way," I start out smoothly. "Sam invited us all and Angelina to her place tonight for a, uh, get to know you kind of thing. Her and her fiancé will be there." George grins mischievously while Fred frowns.

"Course we'll come," George says at the same time Fred says, "We'll think about it." They glare at each other for a moment and have a seemingly telepathic conversation in which George comes out victorious.

"What time and where should we meet you?" George asks, smirking while Fred scowls with his hands in his pockets.

"Six. And just floo to my parents' house and we'll go from there," I respond and then turn to Fred with a glare. "Couldn't you have argued your case a little better?" I snap, unreasonably irritated that he couldn't convince George that they shouldn't come. Fred glowers at me.

"If you didn't want to do this why did you even invite us?" he demands. I glare back wordlessly. There's no way I'm telling him that I have issues with telling people I care about 'no'.

"None of your business," I say at the say time George says, "She can't say no."

I turn my glare onto him and he stares sternly back until I give in and look away with a defeated sigh.

"_Couldn't you have argued your case a little better?"_ Fred mocks in a high pitched voice.

"Go jump off a cliff," I grouse and then walk away down the alley.

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|10|~*~|10|

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A few hours later we've all flooed into Sam's apartment where she and Ava Walters are already waiting. Ava's pretty in a petite brunette kind of way and seems as nice as I remember, but I'm prepared for a long and incredibly awkward evening regardless. With me and Fred not being able to stand the other for any length of time and the daggers Angelina has been shooting at me since she stepped out of my parents' fireplace, it couldn't be anything but.

As soon as we've all arrived Sam jumps forward to do introductions and be introduced herself in the naive hope that we'll all get comfortable with one another and start having fun. Meanwhile Fred and I are pretending the other doesn't exist, I'm avoiding Angelina's armor piercing glare, and George looks incredibly awkward standing in between his brother and his brother's ex-girlfriend who is now his fiancé. And all three of them are staring at the long purple scar on the left side of Sam's face. I scowl. I hate it when people stare at her like she's some kind of circus freak.

"Yes, yes. Sam has a scar on her face and George is missing an ear," I point out bluntly. "Now that we've established these facts can we move on to the part where we start being polite to each other?"

"He's missing his ear?" Sam and Ava ask at the same time Fred asks, "You know about his ear?"

I smirk playfully at Sam and Ava.

"Aww how cute you're already speaking in unison," I coo. Ava flushes, but looks pleased and Sam just sticks her tongue out at me as is her custom.

"And yes I know about his lack of ear," I snap at Fred in a total 360. "It's a gaping hole in his head. It's kinda hard to miss." This is a lie really. George purposely keeps hair long to hide his missing ear, no doubt so he and Fred can continue getting up to their mischief.

Angelina apparently also sees the flaw in this statement and scoffs, mumbling something about having to be in a compromising position with George to notice it. I roll my eyes and ignore her, deciding to be the bigger person here. I've never had much patience for petty girl insults and insinuations. Something about having three siblings kinda hardens you to insults, me to the point where they're more like terms of endearment depending on who I'm talking to.

After the introductions have been officially made there's an uncomfortable silence where I glare at Sam, mentally telling her '_I told you this was a terrible idea_'. She glares back thinking something along the lines of '_It hasn't failed yet_'. I roll my eyes. _Here goes nothin'_.

"So the plan for the night is to devour some pizza that Ava and I already ordered and to stay in and watch a movie or two," Sam announces to our little clan. I let my shoulders sag slightly in relief. Movies are good. You're not allowed to talk during movies. Maybe this won't be such a disaster after all. _Famous last words_.

While we're waiting for the pizza to arrive we decide to play a game. Unfortunately we can't decide which one.

"Monopoly? Really?" I snort derisively upon hearing Sam's suggestion. "Monopoly has been tearing families apart for like 50 years. Half of us can hardly get along as it is. Now _Uno_ on the other hand-,"

Sam cuts me off with a groan. "But I _hate_ Uno," she complains. I smirk.

"And _I_ love it."

"How about Charades?" she suggests. I give her a look.

"And how would we split the teams?" I ask. She bites her lip and looks at all of us standing awkwardly apart.

"_Sorry!_ is a good game," I say when she fails to respond. She rolls her eyes.

"_Sorry!_ is only a four player game and we've got six people," she reminds me.

"Oh yeah. Ooo! I've got it! Scattergories!" I exclaim and then immediately start for the game closet. Sam groans.

"Scattergories?" she whines.

"Yes. It has been decided. No arguments," I say as I pull the game down, almost bringing a cascade of boxes down on my head. I manage to shove the rest back in and avoid catastrophe. Why does Sam, a Pureblood, have all of these muggle games you ask? Why because of my wonderful influence of course. I also introduced her to movies which she now loves so much that when she moved out of her parents' place she got a flat in a muggle neighborhood so that she could have electricity and a T.V.

I plop myself down in the middle of the living room floor and begin setting up the game and passing out the necessities while Sam goes over the rules for everyone else. Basically you have a card that has 12 different things listed on it and a die that has letters on it excluding I think X and maybe Q. You roll the die and whatever letter it lands on you have to use to think up a noun for each listed item that fits the description before the timer runs out. Then once the timer stops you all compare your answers and if anyone got the same answer as someone else both or all have to cross it out. Then you total up the points you received and the person with the most points at the end of all 12 lists wins. And don't forget to roll a new letter for each list.

For example this would be part of one list with the answers filled in:

Vegetables: Peas

Things you throw away: Pieces of Paper

Occupations: Photographer

Appliances: Percolator

Cartoon Characters: Pluto

Types of Drink: Pumpkin Juice

Et cetera. And if you use the letter more than once, like in number two where P heads off Pieces and Paper, you get a point for each word beginning with the chosen letter. But if you try something like Pretty Pink Paper then you only get the one point for Paper. You can't just throw on a bunch of adjectives and expect to be rewarded. That's cheating.

I'm sure you're thinking that it wouldn't have been fair to the Purebloods to have to try and think up muggle appliances and things, but remember this is _Sam's_ game. So she and I have long ago edited the game to be more wizard friendly. For instance, we took out 'appliances' and replaced it with 'spells'. And instead of 'Things at a Football Game' we replaced football with Quidditch. That kind of thing.

We play for about a half hour before the pizza arrives. Everyone except me is relieved to give up the game (I was absolutely stomping them) in exchange for food. We're munching our pizza and actually seeming to get along when Angelina makes another 'whore' comment while glancing in my direction like she has been all night. Finally I'm done trying to be the bigger person and ignore her.

"Is that supposed to like hurt my feelings or something?" I ask loudly, gaining her attention. "Cuz I really couldn't give a rat's fart what you think of me." She looks surprised that I'm finally acknowledging her at first and then her cheeks tint angry pink through her dark skin.

"Well maybe it should concern you what _everyone_ is thinking," she says snidely. I raise my eyebrows.

"Cora," Sam warns quietly. I ignore her and everyone else who is sitting in shocked silence watching the two of us have it out.

"By "everyone" do you mean _you_? That's a bit conceited isn't it?" I retort. She clenches her jaw and her long brown fingers curl into fists. "What's your problem with me anyway? You were fine that first night at the Weasley's."

She expels a tract of air from her nostrils and subconsciously flicks her eyes towards George. I furrow my brow and then round my mouth in an 'O' of surprise as I suddenly get it.

"You think I've got a thing for _George_?" I ask, my tone conveying the absurdity of the notion. "Or is it that you think George has a thing for me?" Angelina says nothing.

"Let's go to the living room while these two work this out," Ava suggests quietly, ushering the others out of the kitchen, leaving Angelina and I quite alone.

"Well which is it?" I demand once the others are gone. Angelina scrutinizes me carefully before she answers.

"I don't know," she finally says in a calm, rational way. "Either one I guess." For a moment I'm stumped at her change of demeanor and then allow my raised hackles to drop. If she's going to be calm and rational then I am too.

"Well you don't have anything to worry about on either front," I tell her. "George and I are just friends. I don't think of him that way and I know he doesn't think of me that way."

Angelina doesn't look convinced. "How do you know he doesn't? It seems like he's around you all the time while he avoids me like Spattergroit," she says miserably. I frown in thought and hop up on the counter while I think.

"Well," I say slowly. "There's the fact that he's been doing nothing but try and shove me and Fred together. If he was interested in me then I hardly think he'd be doing everything he has been. It's annoying actually. The wanker. I also think, this is just a guess, but him avoiding you probably has a lot to do with you being Fred's ex."

I'm surprised to see that Angelina looks surprised when I say this.

"But Fred broke up with me!" she says. "Why would he think that Fred would have a problem with it?"

"Weeelll," I reply slowly. "Maybe that's not what he's thinking. Maybe he's thinking that _you_ still have feelings for Fred and he feels like he's the second choice, second best in your eyes to his brother and that you'd rather be with Fred, but you have to settle for him."

Angelina gaps at me, cogs whirling away in her head as things begin clicking into place.

"Oh my Godric," Angelina finally murmurs looking horrified.

"But he's not!" she suddenly shouts looking at me urgently. "It's always been George! At school though he just never seemed interested, whereas Fred… Well it's stupid really. Incredibly stupid, but I thought, well if I can't have one maybe the other… Ugh. It was so stupid of me. To ever think of them that way. That's why Fred broke it off with me. Because he knew that I had a thing for George, not him. Do you really think Fred never told him? About the reason we broke up I mean?"

I blink in surprise at the onslaught of information.

"Well it certainly seems that he hasn't," I respond. Angelina seems to have been hit by an epiphany.

"I have to go talk to him!" she cries. She's halfway out the kitchen door when she stops and whirls around to pull me into a surprise hug attack. I sit there stiffly for the instant it takes for the hug to take place and then Angelina is off again and out the door. I decide to wait the length of time it takes to eat another slice of pizza before following her. You know, in case of more hug attacks.

Once I've finished I poke my head out the kitchen and check to make sure the coast is clear. It seems safe with just Ava, Sam, and Fred in the room so I take a risk and leave the relative safety of the kitchen to occupy a place on the couch that unfortunately, I must share with Fred.

"Well whatever you said to her seems to have worked things out," Sam says from the floor in front of the television where she's setting up a movie. "She bolted in here and fairly near dragged George out into the hallway." I smirk at the visual. Poor George.

"Yes. It seems that _someone_ failed to mention the _cause_ of their breakup with Angelina to their dear twin, resulting in said twin presumably thinking something along the lines of Angelina thinking he's second best and that she's just settling by being with him, further resulting twin feeling awkward and unwanted and avoiding Angelina," I say caustically while eyeing Fred (in hindsight I'm amazed he was even able to follow all that). Fred doesn't seem to register my tone and instead is staring empty eyed and open mouthed in my direction without seeming to actually be seeing me.

"Merlin!" he suddenly exclaims, jumping to his feet. "I've got to go tell him!"

"No!" I jump up and grab his arm to stop him. He stops abruptly and I jerk my hands off of him like I've been burned. We stare at each other for a second as we both register that that was our first physical contact with each other. I clear my throat, foolishly hoping it will also clear the air of tension.

"Er- I wouldn't go out there right now. I'm sure Angelina has it uh- under control. You don't know what you might be walking in on," I stutter while jamming my hands in my pockets and looking at my trainers.

"Oh. Er- Right," Fred says just as awkwardly. "I'll just… Wait then."

We resume our places on the couch a good six inches apart, staying firmly in our own territories. No more touching. Sam breaks the uncomfortable silence by snickering.

"Well aren't you two just adorable," she coos, imitating me from earlier. I glare at her, but have no words to argue with at the moment. Ava smiles at me and then rescues us all from drowning in awkwardness by asking what movie we're watching.

"Beauty and the Beast!" Sam answers enthusiastically, flashing the case for her fiancé to see. I groan.

"I should've known," I lament. "Can't we watch somethi-?"

"No," Sam interrupts. "You picked the game. I get to pick the movie and I've picked Beauty and the Beast."

"For the hundred thousandth time," I mutter under my breath. I think I hear Fred stifle a chuckle beside me, but then I decide it must just be gas. He probably ate his pizza too fast.

"Sooo should we start it now? Or…" Sam lets her question die off with a significant glance in the direction George and Angelina departed.

"Let's just start it," I suggest after a beat. "Who knows how long they'll be. Or if they're even coming back," I add with a smirk. Again I hear a noise from Fred that sounds like he's smothering a laugh. I give him a funny look and then decide it must just be me. He doesn't look feverish or anything. He looks completely normal. Maybe I'm just going crazy. J

I'm just saying, it wouldn't surprise me.

Right then the door opens and George and Angelina come back in looking disheveled and mussed, but happy. I can't help but to smirk and rib the both of them a bit.

"Have fun you two?" I ask. "Get into any… Compromising positions?"

Angelina flushes still looking pleased while George beams and shoots me a wink. I laugh loudly.

"Get over here," I say after I've gotten ahold on myself. "We- that is to say _Sam_- has decided on a movie. We were about to start it without you. Oh and _do try_ to watch at least _some_ of the movie rather than sitting there staring romantically into each other's eyes all night," I tease, fluttering my lashes for emphasis. Another strange sound comes from Fred and I frown over at him, now sure that he's coming down with something.

George and Angelina laugh, both obviously in high spirits, and come claim spots on the couch. George plops down beside me and pulls me into a one-armed hug.

"You're the best," he murmurs for only me to hear. I let out an exaggerated sigh.

"So I've heard."

George grins at me and then slides over to Angelina and drapes his arm around her shoulders. She drops her head onto his shoulder like it's the most natural thing in the world and he rests his chin atop her head. They stay that way for the rest of the night.

I have to admit that I'm a bit envious. I've never had a _real_ relationship before, not by my standards anyway. Sure I've had 3 boyfriends, but they were all meaningless crushes that I quickly discovered had no actual feelings behind them, at least on my part, so they didn't get very far. None of them lasted more than a month. In fact the first two only made it a week or two before my casual avoidance finally convinced them to dump me. I didn't even kiss either of those two.

The third though was Jack and we'd actually been friends before we started dating. Unfortunately I realized pretty quickly that friendly was the only way I felt towards him. But since he was my friend first I let him kiss me, a few times, _trying_ to feel something other than friendship. I never did. They were only little pecks but if there was anything there I still should have felt something, right? I never felt a thing other than like I was kissing someone that I was not meant to be kissing.

In the end Sam offered to break up with him for me and I shamefully let her. I still hate myself for it. I hate that I couldn't gather the courage to talk to him myself. I was only a fifth year at the time but still. I lost a really good friend that day. The next summer his dad got a new job and their family moved to Switzerland, forcing him to transfer to Durmstrang. I haven't spoken to him since. I haven't had the courage to have another boyfriend since then either. It's pathetic. I know.

I must've zoned out while reflecting on the past because the movie has already started. Fred and George on either side of me look equally enraptured by the muggle movie magic as the background story to the Beast is unraveled by scenes in stained glass.

"Sam you realize we can't sing along right?" I suddenly ask just before Belle makes her appearance.

"Why not?" Sam demands from her comfortable place in the armchair with Ava.

"This is their first movie! We can't ruin it with our terrible singing voices," I explain. Sam snorts and turns back to the T.V.

"Speak for yourself," she says.

"You don't have a terrible singing voice," Fred says, absent mindedly while watching Belle dart effortlessly through village's unintentional obstacles.

"How would you know?" I ask suspiciously, but George shushes me and the question goes unanswered. I let it go and soon realize that I'm thoroughly enjoying the movie despite my earlier protests (I mean honestly, it's Disney. That stuff never gets old). At least I was until Belle gives herself up in her father's place. Then I frown. This seems awfully similar to certain real life events. I get angrier and angrier as the scene goes on and then as Belle is draped across the bed sobbing the loss of her freedom I can't take it anymore.

"Okay that's it. Turn it off," I command.

"What? Why?" Sam asks, looking confused and bewildered while everyone else looks about the same.

"Oh very funny Sam," I snap sarcastically. "Don't think for a second that I don't see through your little scheme. I suppose I should ask if you're in on it too." I demand, turning to George who looks even more bewildered at the accusation.

"What are you talking-?" he starts, but I cut across him.

"The movie!" I exclaim gesturing at the frozen screen. It seems someone had the forethought to pause it. "Girl gets freedom taken away. Is forced to live with boy. First impressions are bad and neither can stand the other for a while. Both are too stubborn to listen to the people around them. Eventually both fall in love despite the circumstances that brought them together and the initial dislike for each other.

"I'm not _stupid_, Sam. And I don't appreciate being manipulated, so butt out," I snap viciously. I notice that even Fred looks troubled now that the plot has been brought to light. Sam looks desperate and pleading for the teeniest of moments before her Slytherin training kicks in and her mask goes up.

"I was just trying to help Cora," she tells me. "I just want you to be happy."

"I don't appreciate being manipulated," I repeat through clenched teeth. "And you know this." Sam sighs.

"Alright. I'm sorry. You're right and that was wrong of me, but I did have good intentions. Also George had nothing to do with it. It was just me," she explains calmly.

"Alright," I say and I just seem to deflate. All the bottled up anger just eeks out of me and leaves me feeling drained and exhausted. "Let's just… Let's just watch something else," I say tiredly while rubbing my forehead.

"Okay," Sam says carefully like she's walking on egg shells. "What do you want to watch?"

"I don't care," I reply tonelessly as I sink back into the couch. All I want now is to go home, but I can't tell her that. Despite how angry I am at her, she's still my best friend and she had her heart set on this being a successful night whether she'll admit to it or not. It's not easy being a Slytherin. Real friends are hard to come by.

"And this is what you get for being best friends with a Slytherin," I mutter to myself under my breath while Sam and Ava pick through the movies. Fred dispels air sharply through his nose.

"What was that?" George asks playfully, elbowing my side. I shove his elbow away, not in the mood.

"Bugger off George," I say wearily. He frowns in concern, but then thankfully obeys and turns his attention to the pretty girl sitting practically in his lap. I sigh again and pull my knees up so my feet rest on the couch. It'll be a miracle if I stay awake through the next movie.

"Alright!" Sam suddenly exalts jubilantly. "We've decided. It's going to be Home Alone!"

"One, two, or three?" I question instantly. "Because if it's three you have to change your mind because they replaced the kid and now it's a fraud."

"The first one you nutter," Sam says looking at me incredulously. "It's the _best_ one."

I have no argument for that. She pops in the VHS and before they've even left for Paris I'm dead asleep.

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	11. Chances

_Disclaimer: I am not still JK Rowling. I know, I know. It's incredibly disappointing._

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**AN: Here you go! A special third-time-in-one-week-update because you're all awesome and tomorrow's my birthday! Yay! Happy Reading! (In hindsight that was a lot of exclamation points... O.o)**

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**Chapter 11: Chances**

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It seems like I've barely shut my eyes when suddenly I'm being lightly shaken awake, but when I open my eyes it's dark and the credits are rolling.

"What?" I croak as I lift my head from… I do a double take and then glance up at Fred's face to see him looking down at me with a carefully blank expression. I feel heat rise in my cheeks as I shift away from him so that I'm no longer leaning against him practically in his lap. Questions flash through my mind.

_How long was I on him like that?_

_Why didn't he make me move?_

_Did I drool?!_

Unfortunately I have no answers except to the last one. I discretely wipe at my chin and feel that it's dry. At least that's one less embarrassment to worry about.

"Have a nice nap?" George asks, his eyes sparkling with mirth. I glare at him for his enjoyment of my humiliation.

"I feel like I could sleep for another ten years and still not have gotten enough sleep," I say through a yawn. "The nightmare," I say to Sam's questioning glance. She nods and goes back to rewinding the video.

"They wouldn't be so bad if I hadn't gone back to that bloody grave the other day," I complain. I can't stop the shudder that creeps down my back ripples across my frame at the memory of Sally's soulless eyes staring up at me filled with pain; her blood soaking into my clothes and staining my hands. I physically shake the memory from my head and unconsciously scrub my hands against my jeans. I climb to my feet and stretch.

"I'm going home," I announce to the room at large. "This was actually kinda fun. We should do it again."

Sam rewards my words with a brilliant smile that only gets bigger when everyone chimes in in agreement. Everyone except Fred that is. He's looking at me with that unreadable expression that I don't have the energy to try and decipher. I look away. George whispers something in Angie's ear. She looks at him and then me and then back at him and nods. He beams and kisses her full on the mouth.

"I'll accompany you home Cor," he says, getting to his feet. I eye him suspiciously.

"Why?" I question. He rolls his eyes.

"I'm not going to force myself upon you or anything. I'm just going to make sure you make it okay. You're dead on your feet," he says. I purse my lips.

"I can make it through the floo by myself," I tell him.

"I know," he says in exasperation. "I'm just going to follow and then floo home from there." He raises his eyebrows expectantly and I finally cotton on that he wants to talk to me privately.

"Oh!" I say. George gives me a look like I'm being utterly transparent.

"You're impossible," he says. I grin.

"Well that's my motto, you know," I tell him. "Why be difficult when with a little effort you can be impossible."

"Really?" he asks curiously.

"No," I say giving him a look to tell him I think he's dumber than a dead goldfish. "Normal people don't actually have mottos."

"Oh. Well, we do," George says gesturing to Fred. I raise my eyebrows.

"Let's hear it then."

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," they chant in unison. I'm silent for a moment as I look uncertainly between the pair of them.

"You know you really shouldn't do that in public. It's creepy," I tell them. George throws back his head and laughs and to my astonishment, so does Fred. I stare at him for and moment and then shake my head.

"I need to get to bed. I'm becoming delusional," I mutter. George snickers.

"Bye everyone! Nice to meet you Ava. See you Sam," I call and then toss a dash of floo powder into the fireplace, say my parents' address, and disappear in whirl of warm green flames. I arrive in my parents' sitting room and collapse onto the sofa to wait for George. I don't have to wait long before he's stepping out of the fireplace and plopping down beside me.

"So what is this all about?" I ask, allowing my head to loll back on the cushion as I look over at him. Now that I'm sitting I'm struggling to stay awake once more.

"I want you to give Fred a chance."

My head pops up off the cushion to stare at him.

"Don't give me that look," he chastises me. "Neither of you has given the other a real chance since the start of all this. I think it's time you both stopped attacking the other at every opportunity and tried getting to know each other. I think you've made some real progress today, but I can't risk you falling into old habits come the light of day."

"What do you mean progress?" I ask. He eyes me for a minute and then sighs.

"Well Fred has made some progress anyway," he amends, ignoring my question. "You're still being as stubborn as an old goat."

"Hey!" I complain.

"So could you just promise to _try_ and get along with Fred? Please? For me?" George begs. I glare at him and then look away from his pleading face. Damn him. "All I'm asking is that you don't pick fights with him all the time and if he tries something don't rise to the bait. Please?"

I sigh heavily and turn back towards him, my face the very essence of defeat.

"Fine," I agree reluctantly.

"Yes! Thank you!" George cheers.

"You're lucky you caught me at a weak moment," I say, poking my finger into his bicep. George ignores me and stands up to place a dramatic, wet, sloppy kiss to my forehead.

"MUAH!" he says as he does it.

"Gross!" I complain as I wipe his slobber from my face.

"Oh you know you liked it!" George teases with an exaggerated wink. I give him a no nonsense look.

"You behave or I'll tell Angie you kissed me," I warn. George chuckles at the empty threat and then sobers quickly.

"You're really going to try right?" he asks. "You'll be serious about it." I roll my eyes.

"I promised didn't I?" I say through a yawn. George shoots an unamused look in my direction.

"Seriously," he insists. I sigh and get to my feet.

"George one thing about me is that I never go back on a promise I make to a friend. It's a Hufflepuff thing. You'll figure it out," I tell him. George grins looking relieved. "Now get out of my house. I need sleep."

"Yes ma'am!" he chants, snapping off a quick salute. Then he winks and returns to the fireplace and a few moments later he's gone.

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|11|~*~|11|

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When I agreed to give Fred a chance I knew it would be hard. I just didn't think it would be _this_ hard. I swear Fred has become even more insufferable since I stopped fighting back. Every time he opens his mouth it makes me want to punch him. But I promised George, so here I am biting my tongue until it bleeds. Literally.

"I think this pattern would suit you and Fred," Mrs. Weasley says, holding the infernal binder out to me and Fred. She has stowed clippings of every possible thing under the sun that you could ever think to micromanage in a wedding in that damned thing. I glance briefly at the magazine cut out of a floral arrangement and sigh for the billionth time today.

"Mrs. Weasley it looks fine," I tell her wearily from my place across from her and to the left of Fred at her kitchen table. "I don't think either of us cares much for the details," I say for the thousandth time.

"I care!" Fred refutes for the thousandth time as well. I don't even look at him for fear of what will escape from between my lips. He's been like this ever since Mrs. Weasley dragged out that loathsome binder. Every. Possible. Thing. He can disagree with me on he does, even though I can _tell_ that he doesn't care anymore for these nitpicky details than I do. He's driving me mad. It's like he _wants_ me to argue with him.

Mrs. Weasley beams at her son and tugs out the floral picture and sets in in our ever growing pile of cutouts for our wedding. It's four weeks away and Mrs. Weasley has been going crazy. I swallow a groan and instead idly leaf through our pile of cutouts.

There're pictures of flowers, napkins, silverware, vases, general decorations, lights, table settings, bouquets, boutonnieres, favors, aisle runners, flower baskets, ring pillows, and center pieces. There's even a magical guestbook that automatically records the names of the guests as they arrive. I frown at the sheer amount of useless _things_ that she thinks we need for our wedding. This doesn't even include a photographer, DJ, or FOOD; the _important_ things. In my opinion at least.

"Mrs. Weasley this is going to cost a lot of money," I voice my concerns. She immediately flushes and looks down while Fred stares open mouthed at me.

"Oh my God, no," I immediately realize my mistake and quickly jump to correct it. "That's not what I- I just meant that _we_ never had a lot of money growing up so I've learned to always be very money conscious. I was just saying that there's a lot of stuff here that we don't really _need_. Sure it's fun to look at, but in the long run it'd be better if we spent our money on other things, wouldn't it? I've just always been a bit of a thrifty shopper I guess."

Mrs. Weasley frowns and leafs through the clippings much the same way I did.

"I suppose you're right dear," she says looking disappointed. "We'd better just scrap these and start over."

"No, no, no," I stop her. "It's alright. Let's just pick out the things we don't really need." I just really can't stand seeing her so torn up over this.

"The flowers are good. All weddings need flowers," I say and set them aside into a new pile. "We probably don't need the favors. We can just get some cellophane and twist ties and wrap up some goodies. Maybe add a little tag with the date on it. And that'll be a pinch to do with magic. The guest book is cool. We can put that on the bottom of the pile as something we can get if we have money left over. Or maybe someone can donate it as a gift."

Mrs. Weasley nods eagerly and seems to really get into what I'm doing.

"We'll need the bouquets and boutonnieres," she chimes in, adding them to the new pile. "I suppose the center pieces are a bit much though aren't they?" I grin, glad to see that she's listening.

"A bit," I agree. "But we can hang onto that photo and use it as a guide. We can hit up some thrift and second hand stores and see what we can pull together that looks similar."

Mrs. Weasley beams at the idea and happily adds the photo to the new pile as well. She looks up at me with a blissful smile and I swear her eyes are starting to water.

"Oh go on you two," she says after a moment. "I've seen you staring longingly out the window all morning. Go enjoy the sunshine while it lasts."

I blink at her for a moment and then beam at her.

"Who am I to argue with the lady of the house," I say as Fred and I both clamber out of our seats.

"You're the best mum," Fred says. Mrs. Weasley gets to her feet as well and pulls me into a motherly hug.

"We are so blessed to have you joining our family. No matter the circumstances," she tells me. I feel my face heat up and I pat her shoulder a bit, unsure of what to say.

"You be good to her Fred," she warns after she releases me. He nods in a surprised kind of way and then we both bolt out the door before she can change her mind. We leave her sniffling happily and humming to herself as she continues to sort through her cutouts. As soon as the door shuts behind us I take off running for the field where I can see the others playing Quidditch.

George obviously sees us coming and flies to the ground to greet us. As soon as I reach him I grab him in an out of character hug without slowing down.

"Oof," he grunts when I knock at the air out of him. He staggers back a step, but otherwise maintains his balance.

"I'm finally free!" I exclaim and release him from my clutches. He shakes his head in amusement. "I swear all of this wedding talk is slowly devouring my soul."

George laughs.

"I believe we _all_ feel that way," he says. "But how did you guys get out of there so quickly? Angie and me were stuck in there until after lunch!" he complains addressing me and Fred who has come up behind me.

"Yeah!" Ron agrees, flying down to land beside us closely followed by the rest of the family excluding Hermione and Percy. "Me and Hermione were stuck in there for ages!" I shrug innocently.

"I honestly have no idea. She just went all misty eyed and then turned us loose," I tell them. Fred scoffs.

"That's not true," he disagrees. I clench my jaw and refuse to turn and look at him. "Cora here flattered mum to the point that poor mum was so love struck she couldn't hold her prisoner any longer. I was released by default."

I roll my eyes, but hold in my argument even though I did no such thing.

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|11|~*~*|11|

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Day 4 of my promise to George isn't going any better than the last three. Mrs. Weasley has been dragging me, Fred, George, and Angelina all over Diagon Alley and muggle London today in search of wedding things. I'm absolutely knackered and would love nothing better to go home and collapse in my bed and never move again, but no. I'm stuck here trying not to rip into Fred Weasley while he argues with me about the _color_ _of my dress_ of all things.

"Please try and be reasonable Fred," I say through gritted teeth as pleasantly as I can while sending ferocious looks in George's direction as he and Angelina pleasantly browse the racks of dresses, completely oblivious to my pain. "There is no way I am going to have anyone _pay_ to special order a _plaid_ wedding dress."

"Why not?" Fred demands. "It's always been my dream to have a plaid themed wedding and it just won't be complete if the _bride_ isn't participating. You've already said you don't care what you wear, so why are you arguing with me on this?"

_Because it's an outrageous request and will cost a small fortune!_ I rage at him in my head. I grind my teeth one more time and then release my breath and my anger all at once and smile.

"Alright fine," I agree suddenly. Fred looks totally floored by my abrupt change in tune.

"What?" he asks. "Fine? Really?" I shrug and nod.

"Yeah," I say in an easy tone. "It's like you said, I don't care what I wear and you clearly do. The only real problem is the frivolous spending and there's simple solution for that really."

"There is?" he asks.

"Yes. _You_ pay for the dress," I respond matter-of-factly. I conceal my inner smirk of satisfaction; sure that I've finally had him out of his charade. There's _no way_ he's actually serious about this and that means that there's no way he'll be willing to drop that kind of money on it. I watch his face carefully for a minute as he puzzles this out and try valiantly to hide my smirk until victory is well and truly mine.

"Okay," he finally agrees. My jaw drops in complete astonishment. No. Way. He's _serious_ about this! And he's going to have _me_ looking like a fool at my own wedding. That is _not_ happening. I set my jaw and prepare to out stubborn him. _My specialty_.

"Well good," I say. "Now that that's settled, we need to decide what _you're_ wearing. I've always had a thing about marrying a man wearing ducks."

"Ducks?" Fred asks nonplussed.

"Yeah ducks," I insist. "You know like a print of little rubber ducks all over his dress robes. Neon orange ducks. On a purple robe. It's just what I've always imagined."

Fred stares at me for a minute.

"Well what about money? I thought you didn't want anyone spending that kind of cash on anything?" he asks. I shrug a bit.

"Well it's worth it for your dream to become reality, right?" I say. "_You_ know what I'm talking about with the whole plaid thing. And I'll pay for your robes out of my savings to be fair." My _savings_. The money that I've been saving for _years_ so that I can have enough to drop on a down payment and first few months' rent for a flat for myself when I get the chance. I'm going to spend it all on rubber ducky printed robes to prove a point and settle a score.

Fred shrugs a bit.

"Alright. Yeah I guess I do," he says looking dazed. I stare at him for a moment and then just have to walk away. I have no idea what just happened, but I'm pretty sure our wedding photos will make the front page of the Quibbler.

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|11|~*~|11|

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I am going to _kill_ Fred Weasley. Apparently trying to get me to fight with him by contradicting me all the time wasn't enough. He's stepped up his game and today he _pranked_ me. Ha ha. Yeah keep laughing, but you weren't the one stuck spouting out the most ridiculous sayings all night while meeting your brother's future in-laws. I don't know how he did it, but right now I really don't care, because I'm going to _kill_ him.

I stomp into the Parkees's backyard now that dinner is finally over and disapparate while the rest of my family uses the floo. Why didn't I floo as well, you ask? Well because, "_It's difficult to choose between two blind goats_," doesn't translate well into, "93 Diagon Alley". And yes, I'm going to the twins' flat to give them a piece of my mind. I've held my tongue long enough. George can't possibly expect me to just let this go.

I appear in Diagon Alley outside of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes with a loud crack. Then, just in case the sound of my apparation didn't alert them, I summon a Patronus to tell them to come let me in (George finally taught me how). Thankfully the spell only requires me to focus and _think_ the message I want to send, so I don't have to try and say it out loud. My German Sheppard bursts from my wand and to my surprise goes straight through the front door rather than up to the flat's window like I'd expected.

A moment later the doors open and I see Fred, George, and my Patronus standing on the other side. The glowing silver dog trots over to me and plops down on his behind panting proudly at a job well done. I give him an affectionate scratch behind the ears and he dissolves into a fine silver mist. I then turn my attention to the grinning boys in the doorway.

"Cora darling what brings you here so… unexpectedly?" George asks with a shit eating grin.

"Can't get enough of us I suppose," Fred continues, the mirror image of his twin.

I bare my teeth at the two of them and then shoulder past them and lead the way to their flat, smoldering in frustration. Obviously they are well aware of why I'm here and have been completely expecting me.

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